Thank you to my beta, RESimon — you deserve all the kudos.
CHAPTER TEN
They landed in heap on the hardwood floor of an unfamiliar cabin. Almost as soon as they landed, Malfoy dropped her arm and began moving about the place, inspecting it. She was frozen with shock, and it took minutes for her to be able to merely crane her neck around the room, inspecting its contents.
It was a small cabin, and they had landed on the kitchen floor near the front door. The kitchen itself was sparse, containing only a few basic appliances and was dominated by a small table and chairs. The wall opposite her was covered in a series of large maps that she noticed detailed the entirety of Britain, as well as many parts of Europe. There was a large desk underneath it, in addition to a tall, mostly empty bookshelf. There was a small living room that had two small sofas in it, and a closed door on one wall that she suspected led to the loo. There was another door on the opposite side of the living room whose door stood ajar, and she spied her husband within.
After hesitating for a moment, she crept up to the open doorway and saw that it was a small bedroom that was furnished only with a bed that could moderately fit two people, a dresser, and a tall mirror. Malfoy stood staring at the bed with his arms crossed.
"You can have the bed," he broke the silence.
"Why did you make us leave?" her voice was quiet but hard.
He turned to her, his eyebrows raised incredulously. "In case you did not notice," he spat, "we were about to be consumed by fiendfyre."
"I know the counter curse! My home was being consumed by fiendfyre!" she snapped back, balling her fists in rage. "That was my home," she added in a broken whisper.
He stepped over to her, bearing down on her in two long strides. "We have to survive this war," he snapped. "And that means that you cannot risk of our lives again for petty things."
"You think that my childhood home is a petty thing?!" she asked, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. "I don't know why at this point, but your utter lack of humanity continues to appall me."
His features twisted with rage. "You know nothing –"
"Then tell me!" She shouted. "Tell me so that I can understand! Every time you give the same answer, and I understand none of it!" She thought of Harry's words about what Malfoy had said the night Dumbledore died, about his denial when she asked him if he had been trying to poison Ron, about why Dumbledore would have tasked her with this — with him, knowing what he had done. None of it made any sense, and her exhaustion with the situation overran her anger as she yearned to know why this was all transpiring.
He was breathing heavily, and she met his eyes unwaveringly. They stayed like that for a long beat, and he did not move.
"I'm going to take a walk," she said finally, turning away and exiting without another word.
It was a small cabin in a densely packed forest, and there was nothing around but the sounds of creatures in the night and her soft breaths. It was a chillier than normal evening, and the low sweep of her dress robes caused the chill of the air to settle across her shoulders and collarbone. She cast a quick warming charm on herself and stepped off the small porch, immediately feeling ridiculous in her heeled shoes on the soft grass.
Sighing, she sat down on the porch instead, immediately basking in the calmness that had descended upon her once she'd removed herself from the tension within the cabin. She contemplated transfiguring them for a moment before unbuckling them and sliding them off her feet gently, looking at the glint of the crystals they were adorned with in the moonlight. She'd borrowed them from Ginny for the wedding, and she had hoped to return them to the girl that night. Now, though, the shoes were one of the last things she had from her, and she decided she would cherish them until she could finally return them. She methodically cast cleaning and preservation charms on the shoes until they glittered as bright as ever before carefully shrinking them and stashing them away in her robes.
She thought of Ginny's smile the day before as she'd presented Hermione with the shoes, insisting that they would match beautifully with her dress robes despite Hermione's hesitation. She had thought them gaudy at first, but once she'd put them on had accepted that they had indeed matched her outfit well. She recalled dancing with Harry and enjoying that last intimate moment with him as she relished in the company of her best friend. And…
She thought of Ron, whom she'd been steadily falling in love with for Merlin knew how long with. She recalled the night last November that she'd given him her virginity so long ago that it felt like another lifetime. She bit back tears as she recalled the heartbreak in his eyes when she'd rejected making love to him, leaving him awash in confusion as he'd left the room, completely unaware of her secret husband who had been lingering only feet away. She had wanted to tell him everything, so many times, and each time the words or the lies she'd thought of to cover up her peculiar actions had always stopped short of leaving her mouth. Every time she'd met his kind blue eyes she'd known that she couldn't lie to him, and so she had broken his heart even further by saying nothing at all.
She slipped a hand into her pocket and clenched it around the parchment inside that was filled with carefully constructed lies which she hadn't been able to deliver to Ron once again before their final goodbye. She pulled it out and unfolded it before carefully siphoning back the inky black words she'd written into her self-inking quill before starting over. This time, she poured out the truth on it in as many splintered fragments as she could, writing her sorrows and apologies, telling him about her secret mission and that she knew not when she would return. She begged him to be happy, to be safe, to find someone deserving of the unwavering purity of his love even though she was not.
Writing it out hurt less than she'd anticipated, and she realized that she'd spent so much time mourning her loss of him since her marriage that she was already nearly completely detached from the relationship they'd once had. She knew that she'd mucked things up badly between them. He would either forgive her or he would not after this, but there was little she could do to rectify the situation now.
She was carefully folding the letter with the intention of heading back inside to face Malfoy once more when there was a crack of Apparition in front of her and Kingsley appeared a dozen feet away, blinking in surprise.
"Good night, Hermione," he said sombrely. "Why are you out here? Has he…?" He looked to the closed door of the cabin.
Hermione gave her a puzzled look for a moment before shaking her head. "He didn't put me out or anything," she said. "I just needed some air, is all."
Kingsley looked at her for a moment before nodding. "I know that has been a most difficult situation for you," he said in his gentle, soothing voice. "I thank you for all that you have done for the Order. I haven't much time, but I came to check on you and see how you were doing."
"I— we're fine," she said, peeking back at the closed cabin door. "How is everyone?" she asked, biting her lip as she feared his answer.
"Everyone is fine," he answered. "There were some minor injuries, but all reported back to headquarters mostly unscathed. We've set up several safe houses for the Order's use, although we are still mostly stationed at headquarters for now." He pulled out a small handkerchief and handed it to her.
She unfolded it to find a large coin within that was nearly the size of her palm.
"It's for communication," he explained. "It was the best we could do, considering the circumstances. It has a protean charm embedded in it that we will use to contact you if needed. You may use it to contact us as well, although I cannot guarantee that all messages will be answered promptly. Nonetheless, we will do our best to check on you periodically. Your fridge should continue to be self-replenishing for a few months, and there is a small muggle village a dozen or so kilometers away should you be in need of anything, but try not to go very often and use a glamour if you do."
Hermione nodded, slipping the coin in her pocket as she thought back to her DA days when she'd fashioned such coins to be used under decidedly less perilous circumstances. It was all a reflection of the stark reality of the situation that had approached them all too quickly. She swallowed as she thought about the distance there was between her and the rest of the Order, and how dreadfully cut off she was from the outside world and the ones she loved. She wondered how long it would take for her to find out if someone close to her were to be killed. Wondered if they would even bother to think of informing her at all in the chaos of it all.
"Would you like me to deliver that?" Kingsley asked, eyeing the folded parchment on her lap.
Hermione bit her lip, hesitating as she wondered if she could revise it. "Yes," she whispered before she could change her mind. "To Ron, please," she said, before pulling out the other that had remained in her pocket. "And Harry," she added.
He looked down at the letters before looking back up at her, a question in his eyes.
"I didn't say anything," she said resignedly. "I know how imperative it is that Narcissa's allegiances remain as secret as possible." The Order had already been betrayed by one of its spies, and there could be no risk of another leak.
Kingsley gave her a sad, knowing nod before he began making his way up the steps. "I will be out shortly," he said.
She nodded, listening to the click of the door as he entered. This was her new reality — her world was now contained to this small cabin and the man within. Draco Malfoy — her husband.
Kingsley emerged only a few minutes later, squeezing her shoulder as he stepped past her, bending down to whisper an address in her ear. "One of the other safe houses, should you need to go there in an emergency," he explained.
"Be safe," he said simply before walking into the grass and disapparating.
Eventually, she sighed, standing and making her way back into the cabin. Malfoy was still seated on the sofa where she'd left him, and she saw a small pile of letters sitting on the sofa beside him, likely having just been delivered to him from Kingsley.
"Malf—Draco," she called softly.
He looked up, quirking an eyebrow at her. "So the Whore of Gryffindor has decided to grace me with her presence once again."
Hermione gritted her teeth. "I apologize for what you witnessed," she said evenly. "It was a rather immature oversight of mine."
"And how many times have you fucked him while I wasn't present, I wonder?"
"Once," she decided to answer truthfully. "Before we were married. How many times did you try to sleep with Pansy after we were married?" she added, raising an eyebrow as she recalled seeing them disappear into the dark stacks of the library together on several occasions over the months. She had even caught them snogging in an abandoned classroom at one point, and her stomach rolled in disgust as she recalled Pansy undulating against Malfoy's near-rigid form. She now understood how much he must have struggled to gain even the smallest hint of satisfaction from their encounters, recalling the nearly painful friction of Ron's body rutting against hers.
He said nothing and only glared at her in response.
Hermione sighed. "I don't — I won't fight with you anymore, Draco," she said. "I meant it when I said that I want to understand. When you're ready to talk…I promise you that I'll listen," she said.
He said nothing still, and she sighed again, picking up her shrunken trunk from where he'd left it on the small coffee table. "You can have the bedroom this time," she said, dropping her trunk in the corner and enlarging it.
"Take the bedroom, Granger," he said, flicking his wand and making her trunk go flying through the open bedroom door. She heard it hit the ground behind her with a loud thunk.
"Malfoy!" she snapped, having just barely ducked to miss getting clocked in the head by it.
"Go," he repeated simply, standing and going into the loo.
X
By the time she emerged to shower the next morning, Malfoy was sitting up on the sofa, dressed and alert. "Hurry up," he said simply as he observed her bathrobe with disdain.
She shifted uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, feeling naked under his hard stare. He had, of course, already seen it all, and she felt equally ridiculous for trying to hide her body from him. Nonetheless, a blush tinged her cheeks as she hurried into the bathroom without a word, emerging a short while later to find that he had already moved the furniture to make a large, empty space in the middle of the cabin.
"Have you eaten?" she asked, eyeing the kitchen which looked untouched.
"We can eat later," he said simply. He appraised her outfit slowly, his face twisted in disgust.
"What?" she asked, tugging her t-shirt down lower over her leggings.
He grumbled something that sounded distinctly like "muggles" under his breath before whipping out his wand and throwing a spell at her with lightning-fast speed.
She barely lifted her own wand in time to deflect the spell, glaring at him accusingly. "Excuse me!"
"There is no time for hesitation in war, Granger," Malfoy's voice was devoid of emotion as he shot out another spell which she quickly deflected as well.
"You've trained before," he noted. He sounded neither impressed nor dismayed by the observation, and she gave him a quick nod, recalling the countless hours she'd spent practicing outside of the DA or taking self defense and martial arts classes over the summer, driven forward by the sheer terror of the idea that a war was looming, and the person — the creature — at its helm had no other purpose but to eradicate her kind. She shivered as she recalled his inhuman form floating beside her on that dreadful night.
Her rumination caused her to miss Malfoy's next spell, and she found herself flying back into the wall, her head cracking against it painfully. She fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, and when she lifted her hand to where the back of her head had struck the wall, she could feel where her hair was matted with sticky blood. When she pulled back her hand, it was stained dark red.
There was a shadow over her then, and before she realized what was happening, Malfoy lifted her bodily, and she was shocked as she was suddenly pressed against the hard muscle of his abdomen. One of her hands had gotten trapped against his chest, and she flushed at the contact for a brief second before he suddenly deposited her face down on the couch, his long fingers prodding at her scalp.
"Malfoy!" she sputtered, and he ignored her, continuing to prod at the tender spot where her head still throbbed. She moved to turn her head and protest and his rough handling of her, but he held her down with his tight grip as he muttered a series of spells over her head. Instantly, she felt the throbbing ease, and when she lifted a hand to the spot where his hand had prodded only moments before, she was surprised to feel it dry and healed.
He stepped away from her, moving only to vanish the blood that she'd gotten on her hand.
"Thank you," she said when she sat up. "Where did you learn that?"
He ignored her question, assuming the position he'd been in earlier. "Get up."
She ignored him and pressed on. "Where did you learn Occlumency?" she asked, recalling how easily and forcefully he'd entered her mind the night she'd confronted him about poisoning Ron. "Where did you learn how to fight like this? Why—"
"It is none of your business," Malfoy snapped. "Now get up."
"Of course it's my business!" she snapped back. "I am your wife, or have you forgotten?"
He descended upon her then, forcing her to crane her neck as he towered over to her. "You are nothing to me," he seethed. "Do not deign to convince yourself otherwise."
"Despite how much you may pretend that I am not," she snapped, "you will one day come to accept that I am something to you regardless of if you want me to be or not, and that many of the things you do will affect me, too. Forever." She met his glare with one of equal intensity, and they stayed like that for a long beat, neither backing down until he turned and stormed off, slamming the door behind him without a word.
X
Hermione spent the rest of the evening locked in the bedroom, fully intent on ignoring her husband until it was absolutely necessary that she exit. She read and snacked on the dried fruit she'd had stashed in her trunk, the parchment she'd brandished steadily filling with notes as the hours passed. Unfortunately, the time crept up on her quicker than she would have hoped, and she felt herself itching to use the loo by the time late evening descended. Sighing once she realized that she could delay no longer, she pulled open her door with the intent to rush into the bathroom and back into the room without sparing her husband a glance.
She made it only one step out of the door before she froze.
Malfoy stood in front of his trunk and had been rifling through its contents when she had pulled open her door. It would not have been out of the ordinary except for the fact that he was completely naked, his damp towel on the couch and the bundle of clothing in his hands evidence that he had just emerged from the shower.
She could not help scanning his body slowly, taking in the defined muscles that had only ever been hinted at beneath his clothing. Her eyes traveled lower still to where his long cock hung soft and heavy between his legs, nestled in a thick patch of pubic hair that was as blonde as the hair on his head. It had technically once been inside of her, yes, but this was the first time she had actually seen it. It was thick and tinged slightly pink, and she felt a tingling between her legs as she tried to recall what the sensation of it inside her had been like.
It was at that moment that she registered the fact that she was staring at Malfoy's cock, and her eyes snapped back up to his face. He was still as frozen as her. Only seconds had passed during her appraisal, but her face still flamed and she squeaked an apology before rushing into the loo, slamming the door behind her.
By the time she worked up the nerve to re-emerge, Malfoy was dressed in a pair of long pyjamas and appeared to be fast asleep. She rushed back into her room without another glance, her face still flaming and her heart still thundering after what had occurred.
X
Hermione spent the next day exploring their small cabin. The combined kitchen and dining area was small, but it held all of the basic appliances that they would need, in addition to having cabinets filled with food and ingredients. She made a meal for both of them, leaving his on the coffee table in front of where he lay on the couch, thumbing through a book with an unmarked cover. He had a paused only to raise an eyebrow momentarily at her, and she had said nothing before returning to the dining table to resume her own meal.
After lunch, she began unpacking her trunk, folding the few clothes she had into the room's small dresser. It felt strange and almost perverse to be doing something so domestic while she waited with bated breath to hear news of her friends, wondering what sort of chaos was occurring around them while she had been forced into isolation. She paused when she reached the pile of books that she had brought with her, unsure of how to proceed. She had spent as much time as she could before they had left trying to find out as much as she could about Horcruxes, even perusing the Black family library's darkest titles in hopes that she would find something, to no avail. Although she had prepared for them as much as she could— stuffing every possible thing she thought that they could possibly need to run on short notice in her magically-extended bag— she knew that the most crucial thing they needed to win this war depended highly on her, and she had yet to deliver it.
Just as she was bound to secrecy about her marriage, Harry had made them promise to keep what they knew about Horcruxes between themselves, and she had a feeling that even with her gone they would continue to abide by that. Kingsley hadn't mentioned how often someone would return to check on them, but she imagined that someone would be coming periodically if only to drop off whatever letters they received. She swallowed back the sick feeling that rose in her throat at the thought of how–- or if — Harry and Ron would respond to her letters, resolving herself to focus on her research and deliver her newest findings in a letter to Harry the next time someone came to check on them.
She went out into the main room and paused as she saw Malfoy looking at her from where he now sat at the dining table with a quill, inkwell, and parchment laid out in front of him. She gave him a small nod, which he did not return, before making her way over to the long desk against the far wall. She put her books away on the bookshelf, looking over the large maps that consumed the far wall. She wondered where they were positioned, feeling incredibly small in comparison to the vast areas that the map covered. They would be confined here for the indefinite future. Her heart ached for her friends, and Wizarding Britain as a whole, as she wondered how much of these areas would be consumed by the time the war reached its peak.
She set down a book she had already read through dozens of times before, determined to glean something new from it – and from every other book she'd brought — because she knew that peace in all those areas that she could see on the map relied on it. She opened the drawer next to her as she searched for a quill, and was surprised to find a single pouch inside of it instead. She picked it up, feeling several small, hard objects inside. She moved to pull it open when she noticed a small tag hanging off one of the drawstrings.
To St. Mungo's, it read.
Her blood ran cold as she tugged it open to reveal a series of small trinkets–coins, marbles, small toys, among many other things. They were portkeys, she was certain. To St. Mungo's, the tag read. So many of them, which meant that either they would be expected to be making many trips there, or that they would need to be sending others there. A chill ran down her spine as she thought of the reasons for which they would have been given these, knowing that it certainly would not be because of the former.
What do you mean to have us do?! She'd shouted at Dumbledore the night she'd figured out his careful engineering of her bonding ceremony. After he had died, she had held a fleeting hope that the Order would not pick up on the position that she and Malfoy had been played into, and that they would instead be forced into isolation and quickly forgotten about instead. But no, the pouch that felt increasingly heavy in her hands was a clear indication that they hadn't been forgotten at all.
"Granger," Malfoy called, breaking her from her trance.
"Hmm?" she said, surprised to find him standing next to her.
"Something's happening," he said, nodding his head towards the desk as he moved to pick up something. She was surprised to see the enlarged coin that Kingsley had given her was burning to the point where there was a small scorch mark left on the desk as Malfoy picked it up. She watched as Malfoy juggled it in his hands for a minute, craning her neck as she tried to read the message that was on it. When he finally settled enough for the message to read clearer, her eyes widened in shock.
Grimmauld has been compromised, it read, followed by a series of numbers.
"Do they expect us to return there?" Malfoy asked, wrinkling his brow.
She looked at the numbers curiously for another moment before she looked up at the maps she had been perusing earlier. She committed the numbers to memory, then gently took the coin from Malfoy's hand. She tapped her wand to it and sent back one word — Received.
"They're coordinates," she said quietly, looking over the maps as she tried to find the corresponding location.
"There," she whispered, pointing to a space on the map. "They want us to go there."
Malfoy's jaw set hard as he looked at the location.
Her heart had begun to race as she thought of what could be awaiting them there. It was nowhere near Grimmauld, but the implications of the message they'd received meant that what they could be facing could be anything from a battle to the last vestiges of the Order that they would need to aid in relocating.
"I've been near there before," he said. "I can apparate us nearby."
She nodded mutely, looking at him to see if the fear she felt at the unknown thing they were about to face would be reflected in his features as well.
As usual, though, there was nothing, and his features were as stoic as ever.
He crossed the room to pick up his wand before nodding at her. "Are you ready?"
No, she wanted to answer. She knew not if she ever would be ready, but she nodded anyway. She knew they could not delay.
He nodded again, crossing the room and taking her arm. A moment later, they disapparated.
X
They landed in a small clearing, and she was surprised by how quiet it was. Darkness had already fallen outside, and she gripped the back of his shirt with a nervous hand as she followed him into the underbrush. He said nothing of her closeness, and it was eerily silent save for their breaths. Neither one of them dared to cast a lumos, knowing not what lay ahead for them. They walked for several minutes, and she started to wonder if they had come to the right location at all when he stopped suddenly.
"Here," he said, nodding ahead of them. She peeked around his tall form to see what he had nodded at. It was a crudely built shack. It was small, very small, and she had a distinct feeling that the door they faced was the only exit.
Malfoy whispered a quick homenum revelio on their surroundings, revealing that they were alone where they stood. He stepped forward then, gesturing for her to follow. She felt frozen for a moment despite the fact that she knew no Death Eaters awaited them in the shadows. When the neared the cabin, he paused again, repeating the spell.
This time, she froze. It had revealed a lone figure inside the shack, and she knew not what it meant. Was it an Order member who had come to speak with them? Or what is it a hostile death eater, poised to attack the moment they stepped through the door?
Malfoy took her hand and squeezed it in what she thought was a surprisingly intimate gesture until he dragged her forward suddenly, pulling her towards him.
"You need to focus," he said in a low voice. "I will not have you get us killed."
She nodded, focusing on the intensity of his eyes as they bored into hers. "I won't," she whispered.
He searched her eyes for a moment longer before nodding and pulling her forward, gesturing for her to stand on one side of the door while he stood on the other. He lifted his wand and then blasted down the door in a quick movement, jumping inside as the noise pierced the silence they have been shrouded until that moment. She ran in behind him, an offensive spell already tumbling from her lips when she paused, noticing that Malfoy had paused as well.
In front of them was a lone figure bound in a chair. It was a man who was slumped forward, his hair matted with blood. She took a tentative step closer, noticing the purpling bruises and cuts that littered his face.
She looked at Malfoy, whose face was hard.
"We must need to speak with him," she said, still eyeing the figure warily. "Do you…recognize him?" she asked carefully.
He shook his head sharply. "Rennervate!" he said, and the spell hit the figure squarely in the chest, causing his head to jerk back violently under the force of Malfoy's spell.
The man blinked at them for a few moments before he focused on the figures that stood before him. His face appeared even more garish now that he was facing them, and she watched as a trickle of blood dripped down over one of his eyes that had been swollen near-shut.
It was silent as they stared each other down until the man stopped to focus on Malfoy. He laughed then, and the sound came out as a strange, garbled noise that made her skin crawl.
"Draco," he said, spittle that she suspected was mixed with blood flying from his mouth as he continued to laugh. "We've been looking for you."
"Yaxley," he said, his voice hard and devoid of emotion.
"Your father's been trying to get back into the Dark Lord's graces since you went missing," Yaxley continued. "But once you return me, I'm sure your good deeds will not go unnoticed. Although I do wonder how he will take it once he realizes that you do not appear to have been kidnapped by the Order." His voice was smug even as he took sharp, painful breaths that were likely the result of injuries that were hidden under his dark robes.
Yaxley turned to Hermione then, his unswollen eye traveling over her body in a way that made her skin crawl. "And who is this, might I ask? A new recruit?"
"I apologize," Malfoy said, "but you won't be returning to the Dark Lord."
Yaxley's brow furrowed for a moment before his eye sharpened into a glare. "You little bastard," he seethed. "The Dark Lord will have your parents dismembered when he finds out of your treachery!"
"He won't be finding out," Malfoy said, raising his wand.
"Wait!" Hermione said. "Draco—"
"Potter's mudblood," Yaxley said, and when she turned to him his glare was focused on her. "Thought I knew your face, bitch," he coughed hard for a moment, and good dribbled down his chin. "I heard your screams that night," he said when he finished. "I thought you'd burned."
Hermione gasped at his words, her own wand flying up to point at him, her hand shaking with rage as the memory of her home being consumed by fire snapped to the forefront of her mind.
"Where were you when your little friends broke into the Ministry, I wonder?" he continued to taunt her, somehow still managing to smirk despite the swelling in his face. "Those little fools took me straight to your precious Order, you know," he spat out a laugh. "Not even a week since our Dark Lord has finally come into power and you've already exposed yourselves. All so that he could steal a piece of jewelry. Pathetic, the lot of you—"
"We have to kill him," Malfoy snapped. "He knows too much."
"How wonderful it will be to see your mother strung up like the dirty whore she is—"
"Crucio!" Draco's spell hit the man quickly, and the cabin was instantly filled with his agonized screams.
"Stop!" Hermione screamed, dragging down Malfoy's wand.
"He knows too much," Malfoy seethed down at her. "He needs to suffer, and then he needs to die."
Malfoy raised his wand at the bound man, his hand decidedly steadier than Hermione's was as she raised her own again.
"We can't—we can't kill him," Hermione pleaded, even as her own wand stayed pointed steadily at the man. She knew not what she was going to do, only that they had to do something that lay between murder and setting him free.
This, she now knew, was why they had been sent this ominous task. If Malfoy killed him, they would never be found out and could never be subjected to trial. This — whatever occurred here on this night —would die with him.
"We can and we will," Malfoy snapped. "Av—"
"Obliviate!" she screamed before the spell could leave Malfoy's wand.
The spell hit Yaxley hard, and she felt the memories of the day sliding out of his mind and into oblivion.
"What the fuck are you doing, Granger?!" Malfoy snapped. "You know that won't work!"
She ignored him. "Obliviate!" she screamed again. "Obliviate!" she screamed the spell until she was hoarse and the man's head lolled to his chest as he muttered unintelligible words.
She rushed forward, pulling out the pouch she'd shoved in her pocket at the last second before they'd disapparated. She grabbed one of Yaxley's hands and tipped one of the portkeys into his hand, closing his fingers over it. He vanished then, leaving her alone with Malfoy.
"Where the hell is he, Granger?!" Malfoy thundered.
"I sent him to St. Mungo's," she said. "He'll—"
"St. Mungos?!" Malfoy snapped. "We were supposed to kill him and you sent him to a hospital?! That is the first place that will try to recover his memories you bloody fool!"
"They won't be able to," she said, her voice quivering as she thought of what'd she'd just done.
"How do you know that?!" Malfoy was heaving with anger.
She knew because she'd pored over the plethora of tomes on memory modification in Hogwarts' library over the past year as she'd planned out how she would hide her parents when the time came. She had been precise in her actions, so precise that no memory potion or spell would ever recover most of the things he knew. Of this, she was certain.
"I was precise," she answered finally, her voice barely a whisper. "I was very precise."
Malfoy's face was still contorted in rage as she stepped up to him, wordlessly grabbing his arm and Disapparating them.
They landed in the kitchen of their cabin. Malfoy was still glaring down at her, and he snatched her by the shoulders as she turned to walk away. She could feel the heat of his hands through her shirt where they rested heavily against her shoulders as he held her, forcing her to face him. She felt equally drawn in and repulsed by the tingling feeling of his hands on her caused in her body and forced her disgust to take precedence as she took into the rage that twisted his features.
"Listen to me you bloody fool," his voice was pitched dangerously low. "There is no place in this war for your petty morality," he seethed. "It is war. We win, or she dies. And if you are the reason that we lose, I will take down the Order before I kill you. I do not give a damn if I follow."
His eyes were burning with a dark intensity that urged her to shrink back in fear. Instead, she wrenched herself from his grip and stalked over to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Once she was safely alone, she broke down and cried, sinking to the floor in a heap of pain and regret.
X
She wanted to curl up on her bed and cry herself to sleep, but she knew that she could not do so. She had just effectively reduced a man's mind to nothing but a shell of what it once was, but Malfoy…
Malfoy had been ready to kill him.
Only months ago, she'd thought that his actions were driven forward by cold cruelty that was a direct result of years of being raised while entrenched in archaic pureblood principles. But when he'd yelled at her only a short while ago, she had looked into his eyes — finally looked — and seen the desperate and fear that lingered beneath his stoic exterior. Again, Harry's recounting of what had occurred in the Astronomy Tower that night haunted her, and she knew that she looked she'd just seen in his eyes had also been there as he'd pleaded with Dumbledore, wavering as he decided whether to kill the man or not.
Malfoy was broken, deeply broken, and she had been too blind to see it.
She opened the door softly to see Malfoy sitting on the sofa, hunched over tensely with his hands buried in his hair.
"We need to talk," she said.
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