Draco woke up early the following morning. The tent was still quiet, and Hermione was still curled against him. He observed her in her slumber. Her dark eyelashes rested against her freckled cheeks and he could see her eyes darting under her eyelids. He found himself wondering what she was dreaming about. He gently brushed some of her unruly hair away from her face and placed a light kiss on her forehead.

She moaned and furrowed her brow at the disruption, but did not wake up. He smiled slightly, an odd feeling settling in his chest. He tried to identify the feeling. He couldn't think of a word to describe it, but it pounded persistently with every beat of his heart. It was half-joy, half-ache. He was sure he had never felt anything like it before. As frightening as the feeling was, he felt…happy, happier than he ever recalled being.

He slipped out of bed gently and dressed. He picked up his wand and exited the tent into the crisp November air.

He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of Hermione and the feeling she caused in his heart. Holding out his wand, he murmured "Expecto Patronum."

A silvery wisp erupted from his wand and swirled through the air around him. It lingered for a moment and then disappeared. He sighed in relief, feeling accomplished. It wasn't a corporeal Patronus, but it was a start. Elated, he tried the spell again and again. It got a bit easier every time, and the silvery wisp got stronger with each attempt.

"You did it," came a sweet voice from the flap of the tent.

He turned around to see Hermione holding her cloak around her tightly. She was beaming at him. "What were you thinking about?" she asked.

He just smiled and put his wand back in his pocket. As happy as he was with her, it wasn't something he liked to talk about. He didn't trust himself to say the right thing around her. He had wasted too many days with her saying the wrong thing. He just walked up to her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her deeply.

"What was that for?" she sighed as he pulled away.

He smirked, "who says I need a reason?" He walked past her into the tent and used his wand to start some tea. As it began to heat up, he turned back to her. She had entered the tent and was smiling at him, but bit her lip the way she always did when she was nervous.

"What?" he probed.

She opened her mouth to say something, but it quickly snapped closed again. She went a little pink before shaking her head dismissively. "Nothing," she mumbled. "I'm going to get dressed." She disappeared behind the flap to her bunk.

Hermione berated herself silently as she got dressed. She had nearly said something very stupid to him. She ran her hands through her hair, her heart racing at how close she had been to blurting it out. She shook her head. She didn't love him. She couldn't. It was a ridiculous thought. She had just been swept up in the moment. His joy of producing a Patronus, the morning light gleaming off of his smiling face, and his passionate kiss had been enough to momentarily fool her.

There had just been something about his face when he looked at her after his successful Patronus that had made her heart swell with joy. She longed to know what he had thought of to finally achieve it, and she felt a wonderful fluttering in her stomach at the idea that it might have had something to do with her. But it wasn't love, she insisted to herself. It couldn't be.

"Mione?" Harry's voice cut her emotional turmoil short.

"Coming, Harry!" She called, straightening her sweater and returning to the center of the tent. Draco and Harry were standing awkwardly in the dining area. She observed them curiously for a moment. They were both restrained, clearly holding back all of the aggression and resentment they still held for each other. Hermione smiled nervously, knowing that they were only tolerating each other for her sake.

"Morning, Harry," she greeted with a smile. She moved to sit at the table and picked up Dumbledore's copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

"You didn't waste any time, Granger," remarked Draco, sitting next to her.

"There's a reason Dumbledore left this to me. It must be important. I need to figure out why," Hermione insisted, flipping to the last page she had read.

"Hermione, I don't think Dumbledore necessarily left us clues through his will. I think they may have just been things to remember him by. The Deluminator Ron got was just a useful thing. It came in handy a couple of times, but it just turns lights off and on. It didn't help with our search for Horcruxes at all. And the snitch he left me is just a snitch. It's sentimental because it's the first one I ever caught, but it's just a snitch," Harry explained, sitting across from her.

"Well what was inside it?" Draco asked suddenly. The two Gryffindors looked at him sharply.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, perplexed.

Hermione's eyes, however, lit up. "Ah!"

Draco rolled his eyes and sat down next to Hermione. "Merlin, Potter, how is it that the muggle-born knows about this, but you don't?" he grumbled. "Alright, so snitches have flesh memories. That means they remember the first person to touch them and will open up to their touch when they're exposed to it again. Dumbledore may have hidden something inside the snitch."

Harry frowned and pulled the snitch from his pocket and held it in his hands. "Well that explains why Scrimgeour was so odd when he gave it to me. But, it doesn't open for me."

"Is it possible that Dumbledore made a mistake? Maybe that's not your snitch," Hermione suggested.

"He probably mixed it up with one of the many snitches I caught," Draco boasted, pulling the snitch from Harry's hand and holding it expectantly. Nothing happened. "Worth a shot," he shrugged, tossing the snitch back to Harry.

"Well there must be something wrong. Surely there's something hidden in there. Is there any other way of opening it up?" asked Hermione.

Draco shook his head. "Well normally, they can open for anyone after they've been exposed to the touch of the first person. The flesh memory is put in place to solve disputes in situations when there is a question of which seeker touched it first. But since this one isn't opening, I'm guessing that Dumbledore charmed it to open only to the person who first touched it after he hid something in it. If that's true, then it probably won't respond to spells or anything like that."

"Well it won't open," Harry grumbled. "And I'm sure the Ministry tried everything they could to get it open. Scrimgeour tried very hard to get me to tell him what we were trying to do. Got really irate when I refused."

"I'm sure Dumbledore ensured that you would be able to open it somehow. Maybe he just wanted to make sure Scrimgeour couldn't find it," Hermione ventured.

Harry just frowned at the snitch in his hands. Surely there was something important within it, and yet it remained frustratingly out of reach.

"Alright, so the book, the Deluminator, and the snitch. Was there anything else?" Hermione pressed on.

"No," Harry replied. "Well, nothing that he could actually give me."

"What do you mean?"

"He tried to leave me the sword of Gryffindor, but it wasn't his to give away. I tried to argue for it, but Scrimgeour told me it was missing."

"What do you mean missing? I thought it was in Dumbledore's office?" Hermione asked.

"I thought so too, but I guess it's disappeared since he died," Harry replied with a shrug.

Hermione frowned. Aside from the obvious reason of wanting to leave Harry with a weapon like a sword, why would Dumbledore want to leave the sword of Gryffindor to Harry? Surely against a wand, a sword wouldn't do much good. More of Dumbledore's mysteries. She sighed, turning the page to the next children's story. The title read The Tale of the Three Brothers. She scanned the first paragraph idly, aware with some annoyance that Draco was reading over her shoulder.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing to a small symbol in the upper corner of the page.

Hermione looked at the symbol. It was a small triangle, divided by a line, containing a circle.

"A rune?" Harry asked, craning his neck from the other side of the table.

"I don't recognize it," Hermione replied. "But I'll check my books. Maybe it's just one I'm not familiar with." She closed the book with a snap. "But first, breakfast."

Try as she might, Hermione couldn't find the symbol from the Tales of Beedle the Bard in any of her rune books. She spent days with her nose in a book looking for it, but after double-checking twice, she was confident that it wasn't a rune.

She had discovered, upon close inspection of the children's book, that the symbol wasn't intended to be there. It had been inked in with a quill, possibly by Dumbledore himself. More riddles.

Harry and Draco avoided each other like the plague, only speaking to each other when Hermione was present. It was very awkward for them all, but so far they had managed to keep the animosity between the two wizards to a minimum.

After a month of frustrating dead-ends and nearly constant headaches from Dumbledore's many riddles, Hermione finally stumbled across something in her books that triggered a break through.

"Merlin's pants!" she exclaimed, standing abruptly. Harry and Draco both started, clearly amused by her outburst.

"What is it?" Harry asked, sitting up.

"The sword of Gryffindor!" she cried, pacing in excited circles, still looking at her book.

Draco and Harry exchanged a glance. "What about it?" Draco prompted.

"I know why Dumbledore left it to you!"

Harry stood and moved in front of her to stop her pacing. "That's great, 'Mione. Please share with the rest of us," he said slowly.

"It's Goblin made!" Hermione beamed, bouncing up and down in excitement.

Harry and Draco just stared at her in confusion.

"Goblin-made objects don't experience wear and tear like normal metals. They can't be weakened, they are impervious to rust and dirt. They only take in that which makes them stronger!"

"Wonderful! So Dumbledore wanted us to have an edge over the Death Eaters who will only have old, rusty swords," Draco droned sarcastically.

Hermione laughed. "No, you don't get it. Harry already destroyed one Horcrux."

"Yeah, with a Basilisk fang. Frankly, I don't see the connection," Harry said.

"Yes, but after you destroyed it, you stabbed the Basilisk."

Draco's eyes grew wide. He turned to Harry. "You stabbed a basilisk?"

"Try to keep up, dear. That was years ago," Hermione waved him off.

Harry's eyes lit up, ignoring Draco's surprise. "The venom, it's in the sword?"

Hermione nodded. "The sword can destroy horcruxes! That's why Dumbledore wanted you to have it!"

"Maybe the old man had a plan after all," Draco intoned.

Hermione turned to him, "I told you he did. Dumbledore always had a plan."

"Well all of that is brilliant, but it's a little irrelevant. The sword is missing," Harry pointed out.

Hermione's smile faltered slightly before she shook her head, refusing to let her excitement be diminished by this detail. "It'll turn up. It always turns up when you need it most."

The following morning, Hermione woke up entangled in Draco's arms. They had abandoned the pretense of sleeping in separate beds after only a few nights of their new living arrangement. After so many weeks of sleeping next to each other, it felt wrong to sleep apart when they were still so close. Despite this, the frequency of their coupling had diminished greatly. It was hard to find the time with Harry so close by, and Hermione didn't trust silencing spells to be totally effective inside their tent.

They usually spent their nights quietly talking in each other's arms. They grew closer and more honest with each other with each passing day. The fractures of their past were nearly all healed, replaced by affection.

She had grown very used to waking up next to him, but she never tired of it. It was a rare chance to see him without any of his walls. Everything he had been taught, his aristocratic posture and way of speaking, his haughty expression, it was all gone in these early morning hours. She had studied him in depth during their time together and she had concluded that this was her favorite version of him. It was just so…honest. His face was relaxed as he slept, and he always held her through the night, loose enough so that she could move around if needed, but tight enough to make her feel safe.

As he woke up, he always groaned quietly and pulled her in tighter, as if trying to cling to sleep for a few more moments. He was grumpy most mornings, but Hermione found it endearing now.

This morning was no different. He cursed at the rising sun and buried his face in her curls. He pulled her close, his broad hands delving under her shirt to caress her stomach. His hiding from the sun quickly turned into an early morning seduction attempt.

He kissed her neck lazily, drawing languid circles on her ribcage. Hermione sighed contently, reaching up to gently scratch the back of his neck the way she knew he loved.

Just as Draco's hands were inching higher up to her chest, their tent mate rudely interrupted them.

"Hermione!" Harry called from just outside their flap. "Are you awake?"

"No," snarled Draco. "Piss off, Potter."

Hermione laughed, "just a second Harry."

"Traitor," Draco growled into her ear.

Hermione wiggled away from him and stood up, straightening her clothes. She winked at him and mouthed 'later.'

"Yeah, right," he droned, flopping back onto the bunk.

Hermione just smiled and exited the flap.

Harry looked very uncomfortable and a little red in the face. "Honestly, I still don't know how you stand the ferret, Hermione," he grumbled as he led them to the table.

Hermione ignored his comment. "What did you want, Harry?"

"Well, I've decided where I want to take our Horcrux hunt next."

"Oh? Where?"

"Godric's Hollow," Harry replied.

"Oh sure! Let's just walk into Potter's old home where You-Know-Who nearly died. I'm sure that would go brilliantly!" Draco scoffed as he walked into the kitchen area.

Hermione glared at Draco briefly. "He's being an ass, Harry, but he's right. That's exactly the kind of place You-Know-Who would expect you to go," she said sympathetically.

"Yes, but don't you think it might be the kind of place he could have hidden a horcrux? It's significant to him too. I really think it's our best move," Harry said diplomatically.

"Well, I think our best move is to not get ourselves killed," Draco bit back.

"I'm sorry, I thought you realized that this was a war and not a romantic camping vacation for the two of you. You need to be prepared to die for the cause." Harry argued.

Draco laughed darkly. "I thought you were supposed to be this great hero. Fat lot of good you'll do for 'the cause' if You-Know-Who kills you exactly where he first tried to sixteen years ago."

"Stop it, both of you," Hermione chastised. She was tired of keeping the peace between them. "Harry has a point; we need to do something. We'll never find all of the horcruxes if we don't venture away from our camp. And even I've been thinking recently that we'll need to go there. I think it's possible that Dumbledore may have left the sword there for you to find. But Draco has a point too; it's extremely dangerous to go there. We need to have a plan, and we'll need to go in disguise."

Draco threw his arms up in exasperation and stalked back into his bedroom. Hermione groaned and followed him. She closed the flap and cast a quick Muffliato.

"Why do you have to take his side in everything?" Draco grumbled.

"What? Don't be so dramatic. I'm just trying to be diplomatic. You're the one who's always goading him. He's under a lot of pressure."

"Oh, please," growled Draco. "Don't give me that. I am so sick of everyone giving Potter passes for being a moron just because he's the bloody 'Chosen One.' We're all under a lot of pressure. You don't see me suggesting stupid plans."

"Well we can't win the war just hiding in this bloody tent!" argued Hermione.

"I know that! I'm not saying we shouldn't go. I know it needs to be done,"

"Then why are you so angry?"

"Because you took his bloody side, Hermione!" Draco shouted.

Hermione blinked.

"Every damn day since I started at Hogwarts, it's been Potter this and Potter that. The bloody 'Boy Who Lived.' Youngest seeker in a century, Dumbledore's favorite. I'm fucking sick of everyone thinking he's so perfect. I need someone on my side, Granger."

Hermione softened slightly. Draco was jealous of Harry. Perhaps that was a large part of the reason they had never gotten along. "I know he's not perfect. Harry has his flaws like anyone else, but he's my best friend. I'm going to side with him when he's right and I'll side with you when you're right. I don't take his side just because he's Harry Potter. I've never cared about any of that. He's my friend and I need you to accept that."

Draco just frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Hermione stepped closer to him and placed her hand on his chest. "You know I think you're brilliant, right? I like you a lot, but I'm not going to stroke your ego just to make you feel better. You're just going to need to trust me and have some confidence what we are."

Draco didn't smile, but he did raise his hands to her face gently. "I think you're brilliant too, but if Potter gets us all killed I'm blaming you."

Hermione grinned, "I expect nothing less."

A/N: Quickest update ever! Y'all, I'm really plowing through this story now. I'm so motivated, and your words, follows, and favorites have inspired me so much. Love getting all of your reviews and hearing your thoughts! Keep 'em coming!

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