Yes... It has been far, far too long. Fanfiction had to take a back seat to school work and I will admit that I've been a bit preoccupied with my other story 'Bed Sheets'. I apologize and if you want, flame me into a crisp. I deserve it for taking so long. After this chapter I promise that answers will be given and the story will start to reach its climax. I imagine probably three more chapters and it'll be finished. Maybe. I hope you like it.

Chapter Xll

Draco's mistake was evident as soon as he felt his feet touch the ground. He was never really sure if it was Hermione's sudden whimper or the cracking of aparating enemies that first reached his ears, but as soon as the early morning air touched his face the danger was potent. The air was heavy with a foreboding sense that immediately crawled up his skin, sending every nerve in his body on high alert. Their feet had barely touched the ground before he dashed behind the nearest shelter, towing Hermione's suddenly heavy weight behind him. The simple stone fencing would save them only seconds, but Malfoy was already plotting his escape route as the first telltale signs of lethal curses cracked against aged stone.

It was hard to tell how far away they were; therefore, as slight as it was, time to escape was a possibility. Just a second between them and the unfathomable forces that pursued, but it would have to do. Too focused to look back at Hermione, Malfoy gently took her hand and guided her along the low line of the fence. He'd aparated them to the outskirts of Hogsmead, meaning their cover was sparse. If they were going to get away alive, he needed to be clever. He could aparate again, but would that only lead them further into what appeared to be the enemies trap? Was it merely a good guess on their part as to the location where they would aparate?

A sharp crack and bits of dust and shards of stone showered down, cloaking the two in a gritty gray. Shit, the seconds he had assumed they would have proved to be short lived. Hermione screamed as another blast, the strongest yet, smashed the wall with a blinding force. Grout flew and shattered stone beat against their bodies as their only shelter faltered. Shearing pain tore across his forehead as rock ripped his pale skin. Malfoy grimaced, trying his best to ignore the warm blood that spilt down his cheekbone as he clutched Hermione to his chest.

"Malfoy!" A voice suddenly rang out on the air, silencing the chaos that had just ensued.

It was a cold voice, calculated and calm, completely dispassionate. Malfoy screwed his eyes shut in despair as his stomach took a sickening dip; the voice was one he recognized. Things were a bit easier to understand now, though it gave him no comfort. Somehow the Dark Lord was now involved, which was worse than having some unknown enemy.

Hermione shook in his arms.

"Be a good boy now, Draco, and come out. We've only come to talk," Avery shouted, his forever-dry tone giving his identity away.

"As shown by the hole you just blasted? Fuck that, asshole," Malfoy countered, edging over to chance a peek out of the now ghastly gap between what was once careful masonry.

Avery wasn't alone. A rough looking man was edging his way to the left, towards a sagging, depressed looking barn. From where he sat, Malfoy could just make out the passageway that would allow their enemy access to their side. Typical tactics, keep the prey distracted while it's being surrounded. Malfoy wasn't surprised; it only made sense that the confident pricks would use something so simple because, after all, they were "children".

"Don't be a little ass. If you come out now we can settle this peacefully," Avery reasoned, his voice drawing closer.

The second man's shadow, elongated from the morning sun's angle, fell over the low wall. He would be on their side any minute. Malfoy nudged Hermione and gestured toward the shadow. He needn't have bothered, she was already aware; eyes trained on the offending shadow as it skulked nearer. Her wand was drawn and at the ready. She looked furiously determined.

And ill.

Her skin had taken on an eggshell pallor and her normally full lips were drawn in a tight line. Despite her steady hand, there was unevenness to her, as if she'd crumble like aged paper at the slightest touch. Malfoy twined his hand into the waistband of her jeans, grip like a vice so that when they aparated, as he had now chosen to do, he wouldn't lose her. Her enemy- their enemy, was now clear. The force he'd been raised to join had now thoroughly pushed him onto the other side. There really wasn't a doubt now that Voldemort had foul intentions for them both.

Their eyes met for a brief second, brilliant blue on arrogant grey, with a connection that had not existed 48 hours ago. She gave him a brief nod and then, to his complete undoing, offered him a sad, resigned smile. The small twitch of her lips cut at his heart deeper than any knife could plunge. Did she think they were about to die?

…Or possibly head down a path that led to a worse end? The world around him momentarily forgotten, Draco Malfoy desperately searched the Gryffindor's eyes. Their passion last night couldn't compare to the feeling that threatened to combust in his chest. Before had been lust, compulsive and careless.

Fighting next to each other, sharing this terrifying battle next to a girl he had once hated based predetermined judgments was making him feel something that Malfoy had never experienced before. He knew what it was but as pessimistic as he normally was, had left it to the pages of storybooks. Seeing Hermione's resigned sorrow was almost enough to have him flying over the wall, sending curses at the more experienced wizard. What kept him rooted, however, was the warmth with which she looked at him. Her blue eyes blazed with beauty that before he had always been blind to. The emotion that reached out from her and wove its hand around his chest was unmistakable, but he could barely believe it.

She was sad to die, but she was glad to die with him.

The suddenly realization ripped a gash in his chest, making coherent thought temporarily impossible. With out warning he grabbed Granger to his chest, locking her lips on his in a heated kiss. Assuring her, without words, that he felt the same and that he would get her out of this. When the softness of her lips left him, he saw tears collecting at the rim of her eyes as she buried herself into his chest.

The moment they had just shared seemed to slow down time, but Avery's impatient sigh told him it had only been mere seconds. Finally paying attention, he saw that the man's shadow was almost at the end of the wall, about to turn to their side and blast them to oblivion.

"Well you know what I've learned being around Death Eaters, Avery?" Malfoy shouted, securing an arm around Hermione's slim form.

"What's that?" he responded, boredom etched in his voice.

Malfoy pointed his wand at the spot where Avery's accomplice would appear.

"There's never anything PEACEFUL about them!" he roared, sending off a stunning curse at the form that had just leapt out at them.

He waited only to see the stout man fall before aparating them away.

"FUCKING HELL!!!" the curse erupted out of him with out thought.

He was a fool, a complete fool! He had sent MacKraggon over with the belief that he could actually pull it off. Now the idiot was on the ground, useless until the curse wore off. Avery's calm was shattered as he kicked at the ground. First a dead man and now this, how could he possibly go back to the Dark Lord with that? MacKraggon had messed the plan up; careless in his actions despite the evidence that Malfoy's son could pack a punch. Avery shoved his fists into the deep pockets of his cloak, clenching his wand so hard that he vaguely thought it might break.

"Well, that couldn't possibly have gone any worse," a voice snaked its way around him.

Avery prickled at the sound, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Fuck, was the only word that came to mind as Avery slowly turned on the spot in order to face her.

"Camille… what a pleasure," he greeted her through clenched teeth, stiffly ducking his head in a quick bow.

The child's sharp eye's seemed to crackle with malice as she smiled, revealing perfectly proportioned, white teeth. Perhaps it was his sour mood, but those pearly whites seemed to end in sharp points. Camille drew closer, pulling her fur coat more firmly around her shoulders. In the pale morning light her skin looked flawless and profoundly unreal. That was to be expected, after all, no one could expect her to be rosy cheeked when all she really was, was a mere shell. This Camille was an intelligent copy of the original.

"I had a feeling that somehow things would end up like this, so I took my leave of your Lord's presence and came to supervise," her Italian accent smoothed her words despite the bite of anger they held. She walked across the road to the mess of rubble his curse had made and kicked at the broken stone.

"I stopped by the library before I came here, it seems that they've found a book of mine," she continued, not bothering to spare a glance in Avery's direction.

"What's in it?" he asked simply; too tired at this point to play games.

"I don't know. My present self hasn't lived that long yet. I already informed my original, she doesn't know what her future self could have written but she thinks the book could… cause complications," she made eye contact at the last two words before she continued her way over to the fallen Scott. "Although seeing that you've lost them multiple times means that things are getting far more complicated than they need to be."

She nudged his shoulder and sneered.

"There was also a portrait of me, though I never thought my original would go for a body with darker hair. It seems to be from the mid 1800's, so perhaps the book is from that time as well. Not that it matters, what we need to do now is get back to headquarters and find a way to fix your mistakes before the curse takes both of them." Camille said, leaving the unconscious man.

Suddenly a malevolent grin spread across her face.

"The girl did look an awful lot like my Ardelle… too bad she wont be around much longer to enjoy it."

His passion had knotted her hair and as Ardelle attempted to work out the tangles, she couldn't help but smile. Massimo had surprised her. After weeks of flirtatious conversations he'd finally swept her off her feet. She could hardly explain the excitement as he had wrapped one of his arms around her, strong with lean muscle, and with the grace of a lord, had steered her away into the shadows. What had transpired made a furious blush seep onto her cheeks even in the warm lighting of her room. He had taken only what she was willing to give and she respected him for that. He'd protected her honor, keeping them from stepping into a level of intimacy that would only cause problems.

Ardelle laid down her brush and straightened the folds in her nightdress. Yes, it had been a perfect evening. In a daze-like state, she brought her fingers up and brushed them against her lips. They still felt swollen from his constant attentions. He'd tasted so sweet, yet incredibly masculine. A jolt still shot into her stomach when she thought of his warm tongue smoothly making its way into her mouth.

Massimo de Luttoci ignited a fire in her belly that she'd never felt before. It was a womanly urge that pressed incessantly between her thighs, making her realize how fully she had grown.

She was 16, perfectly natural for a marrying age.

Perhaps Camille and Lord Agosto de Luttoci were planning such an engagement for them? It would only make sense; seeing that they always seemed to insist that the two of them spend time together. It really would be wonderful, being his wife. Then she could finally ease the urges she felt in the warmth and security of a marriage bed.

Suddenly restless, Ardelle stood from her bed and walked over to her small window. It had a good view of the city, the lamps igniting the streets below in an orange glow. The dark shadows of late travelers occasionally stole across the cobblestone streets, adding flavor to the otherwise ordinary scene.

She sighed; Massimo would be an excellent father. His kind patience constantly soothed her and his actions tonight told her he was compassionate. A more common man would have taken everything she had, leaving her a disgraced woman. Massimo had shown her he could wait for such temptations; he cared more about her than his own physical needs. She giggled suddenly, clasping her hands over her mouth at the thought that suddenly invaded her mind. She was probably just being a silly girl having childish daydreams, but their children would be beautiful. She smiled. Things finally seemed to be going well.

Her mood suddenly changed with a sharp gasp.

She'd forgotten her linens out on the airing line. Camille was harshly strict on having an orderly house. If she found out that she'd forgotten to take them off the line in the courtyard, Ardelle would pay. Not bothering with shoes, Ardelle scurried from her room. She held her breath as she slowly inched her way down the staircase, praying that the old wooden steps did not creak. If she took care of things quickly then maybe she would be lucky and escape her ward's wrath.

The house seemed dead; all the servants had retired for the night, thus leaving the house in a state of stillness. Only the soft padding of her feet broke the silence as she stepped onto the stone patio that occupied most of their compound's courtyard. There they stood, her various garments billowing softly under the moons rays. As quick and efficiently as she could, Ardelle ran out and gathered the clothes in her arms. They smelt of the warm sun that had faded away only two hours previously.

She stepped with a lighter heart as she made her way back into the house. Success.

Low murmurs caused her to still.

The kitchen door was partially open, allowing Ardelle to see directly through to the servant's street entrance. The moon highlighted the two figures as they stood in the street. Their business was secret but still their voices drifted through the kitchen to Ardelle's ears.

"…you gave it to him?" the smaller one whispered.

Camille.

"Yes, I-I did," the larger one replied, his voice masculine.

There was a long pause in which Camille seemed to be scrutinizing the tall man.

"You are faltering, Agosto," she stated, her voice carry a dangerous undertone.

"He is my only son, how could I not?" Agosto de Luttoci replied, his tone short. Through the darkness Ardelle could see the man wringing his hands.

"Lord Voldemort will reward you greatly. Imagine, with eternal life you can have hundreds of sons. Massimo is worth the sacrifice. Certainly your seed can produce an equal, if not better son once you've had your choice of women over the centuries," her words were oily, yet they seemed to ease Agosto's troubles.

"And you, Camille, will no longer have to prey on the bodies of young women to attain your youth," he said and in the silver night light, Ardelle saw a wicked smile stretch across Camille's face.

"Yes, I will be able to stay in one body forever," she replied, sounding satisfied.

Ardelle gripped the clothes to her chest, fighting a silent scream of horror.

"Tonight will be the night, I slipped some of the oveshorn extract into her drink while she was off with your son. The Il Lamentation has almost run its full effect on Voldemort's victims; we need to be sure that their bodies are ready to receive them. Once Massimo has collapsed, you must bind him tightly. Voldemort chose the two strongest willed people he had for the ceremony, expect a fight from them," Camille instructed, shoving what appeared to be bindings into Agosto's hesitant hands.

Ardelle began backing away as disbelief jarred her mind. A deep terror was slowly poisoning her insides. The horror numbed her so that she didn't notice the lamp she knocked over, sending shattering glass everywhere.

She barely heard her scream as everything went black.

"Where is he, you bastard," Blaise Zambini hissed, his wand inches from Harry's nose.

Harry was shocked, to say the least. No sooner had they stepped foot in Slytherin territory Blaise Zambini had popped up out of nowhere.

His wand drawn and murder in his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded incredulously. His wand was in fighting stance as they stood each other off. Ginny and Ron were also armed, however Zambini never gave them a second thought.

"Malfoy! You were the last people he was with and now he's gone. There was something wrong with him, no doubt something of your doing," he accused, jabbing his wand for effect.

Harry blinked as his words registered in his brain. From somewhere behind he heard Ginny's shocked gasp. His wand lowered a fraction of an inch.

"We came here to confront him. Hermione Granger has gone missing," Harry said, frowning.

"The mudblood?" Blaised asked, taken aback.

"Last time we saw Malfoy he was demanding to know where Hermione was," Ginny said, suddenly charging to the front of things. "And don't you dare call her a mudblood!"

Blaise regarded the five foot three, red head with wide eyes. An awkward silence stretched out as the four teens stood, unsure of where to go next.

"We thought he had something to do with it," Harry confessed, picking at the hem of his pocket uncomfortably.

"As I did of you," Blaise countered, his eyes looking at all of them in return. "I had just been on my way out to do what I guess you've already done. How'd you get our password?"

"How would you have gotten ours?" Ron asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Blaise merely gave the Weasley a sneerallowing the matter to pass.

"What now?" Ginny asked, gnawing at her bottom lips viciously.

They should work together as it now seemed that neither was the enemy of the other in this matter. Ginny didn't care, as long as they found Hermione in the end. However all three boys seemed incredibly uncomfortable, eyes suddenly glaring. She snorted in disgust. Of course it was going to be this way.

"Oh come on, children," Ginny snapped, driving her fingers into her hair in frustration. "Lets just go out and look for them. Would it really kill you to join force just this one fucking time?"

"Hey," Blaise started, "I am not a child-."

"Don't shout at her!" Ron interjected, stepping up to place a hand on Ginny's shoulder.

"Well you don't get snippy with me, Weasel," Blaise sneered, twitching his wand back and forth for effect.

"How dare you!" Ginny sputtered, stepping forward.

"Enough!"

All three stopped in their tracks, looking at Harry after his outburst, silenced. Harry rubbed a frustrated hand over his brow, knocking his glasses slightly askew. He seemed to battle with himself for a second and then spoke in a strained voice,

"We need to find Hermione, you need to find Malfoy… seeing that he went looking for her the last time we saw, they must be together."

He sighed, grimacing as he said his next words.

"Lets just try to find them before we wake the whole damned school up… not like we have much time as it is."

Ginny couldn't help the admiring smile that sprang onto her face.

Hermione was deteriorating.

Drastically.

Malfoy gathered her into his arms and lowered her to the floor. Aparating had worsened her condition, leaving her weak and limp. Her deathly pallor had worsened and now a cold sweat beaded on her forehead. Knots of worry made him feel sick as he wiped the perspiration off her skin. She looked up at him through heavily lidded eyes, seeming to barely hang on.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice was dry and cracked.

"What for?" Malfoy asked, gently lifting Hermione's head to cradle it in his lap. He'd never felt so sentimental in his entire life, yet embarrassment didn't register as he looked down on her face.

"For doing this," she said, giving a small exhausted laugh.

"Granger," Malfoy smiled, "Are you always such an idiot?"

She looked ill, but as she smiled up a little spark of live flashed through her eyes. A silence stretched out between them. Malfoy took the time to finally take in their surroundings. They were in a small shack filled with various knick-knacks, his secret place in Hogsmead where… as ironically as it seemed now, he took the few dates he'd had when they wanted to fool around. It was clear on the other end of town, so while it wasn't the best place, they should be safe… at least for the moment, he hoped.

"I never thought I'd like you," Hermione spoke up, breaking Malfoy out of his thoughts.

It surprised him briefly. Her sudden confession was so unlike the Granger he knew. How long ago had it been since they had been sworn enemies? Less than 24 hours. It was like an over night transformation. It made him nervous; however, not wanting to agitate her, he let a little smile bend his lips.

"You're not the only one, bookworm," he said, trying to keep his tone light.

"I'm serious, Malfoy. You're different, now that I've spent this time with you," she said, looking up as him with intense eyes. Searching eyes.

Malfoy was silent for a moment, returning her stare. Then, as if someone had thrown off a switch in his brain, he didn't care anymore. Malfoy didn't care if all these feelings had come on too fast, or that they might fade just as quickly. He didn't care because Hermione Granger was the only person who understood what he was going through right now, and she was right there with him.

He moved, gently sliding her head off his lap and onto his arm. Becoming horizontal, Malfoy lay on his side next to her and pulled her against him. He couldn't form any words. At the moment anything that came out of his mouth would seem cheap, robbing the moment of the emotion coursing through his body. Actions seemed to suffice well enough. She let out a long sigh, her warm breath washed over his face. She eased against him and wound a fist in the material of his shirt. Minutes passed, Malfoy forced himself not to panic at her labored breathing. It was light, as if the will to breath would suddenly evaporate from her entirely and she would simply cease.

"Malfoy," she suddenly spoke. Her voice was as small as a child's.

"Hm?"

"I don't want to die."

The statement caused him to rise up on one elbow. He looked down at her and frowned. Death had been all too real back behind the wall. He had steeled his nerves against it and now that they had escaped, some childish part of his head had shouted in triumph. Nothing could get them. However, he knew it wasn't true. Death Eaters never stopped. Granger knew and now he was looking down at a girl who was pale and frightened. She gave him a weak smile, her bangs obscuring her right eye. He reached out and lightly brushed the hair away, the sudden tenderness in his touch leaving him shaken. He couldn't think of what else to do. There didn't seem to be any other response that would calm her.

Craning his down his neck, Malfoy brushed his upper lip against hers. They held eye contact as he brushed again, allowing her bottom lip to be caught between his. Her eyes fluttered closed as she opened her mouth, allowing him to take her in a full kiss. It was soft, warm, and Draco used all he had to reassure her. He broke away, kissing her face. Her cheeks, nose, and chin were showered in his attentions and he held her close. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in deep, attempting to calm his own seriously flayed nerves. A foreign emotion tightened his throat and began to sting his nose.

"Hermione, I-," he began but was cut off. The most heart-wrenching noise struck his ears and he pulled away.

Hermione let out a choked sob as she looked around frantically. Panic flashed across her face as her body began to shake. Soon she was convulsing, he head bouncing off the floor and coming down again with a resounding, sickening crack. Malfoy scrambled to his knees and attempted to hold her down. His mind seemed to be whirling in several different directions as he grabbed her hands. They slipped through his grasp, slick with sweat. She batted at the ground with her hands, clawing as if she were attempting to latch on. Malfoy could only watch in horror as a handprint began to form across her throat, a furious shade of red. She grabbed at her throat, struggling as is she was being strangled in some twisted lovers feud.

She flipped onto her stomach, twitched, and then stilled. The small space of the room fell heavy with silence. The sound of his own horrified breathing fell silent on his deaf ears. He seemed stuck, like a photograph, unable to comprehend what had just transpired. He was merely a representation of what had happened and any understanding of the situation was up to the observer. His mind lurched about, grasping onto bits of reality as his froze state began to melt. Shaking uncontrollably, Malfoy shuffled forward and tentatively touched her shoulder.

She didn't move.

"HERMIONE!"

The shout ripped through him, through his entire being as he pulled Hermione onto her back. She rolled over like a limp doll, lifeless. Her eyes stared passed him, up at the rafters. He shook her, frantic in his actions.

"Granger… Granger, don't do this! Come back! Come back!" his voice suddenly grew hoarse as he held her body to him, crushing her against his chest.

If he willed it hard enough she'd come back. If he yelled enough, Granger would start to move again. Cradling Hermione in his arms, Malfoy rocked back and forth. His chest gave a shuddering heave, capturing the air inside with bone breaking force.

He was alone.

Not the most pleasant chapter. I hope you enjoyed it all the same. Comment and let me know!

-peanut