Author's Note – Wooo! Another chapter. I love this chapter. And thanks for all the reviews for last chapter. Thirty four reviews for one chapter! This chapter is just as good as the last one. It's the chapter you've been waiting for. :wink wink:

Another Note – The title means, "The Third Promise," in Latin.

Disclaimer – I own nothing…except the idea of the Ignius. That, my dear friends, is all mine.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"Tertius Promitto"

All Hermione could feel was the electricity surging down her spine, turning her knees to pudding. Then, reality hit with the force of a train, and she pushed him away.

"What are you doing?" she cried, one hand on his chest, keeping him at arm's length, the other on her lips.

"I thought that would be obvious," he said, confusion diffusing into his eyes as he looked at her.

"Why," she said. "Why would you do that?"

The over abundance of confusion turned into irritated anger. "I just kissed you, Granger," he said. "That's all you have to say?" His heart pattered almost painfully in his chest, but he didn't show the discomfort he felt because of it.

"You…you kissed me," she said, mumbling the words almost to herself.

"Yes," he said. "I kissed you."

She looked up at him, accusation in her eyes. "How could you? How could you do that?"

He said nothing, just stared at the irate girl standing before him, her curly brown hair blowing angrily in the wind.

"Draco," she said, tears of either anger or sorrow, he couldn't tell which, forming in her eyes. "How could you do that?"

He opened his mouth. "I…I thought…you-" He stopped.

"I what?" she demanded.

It was as if he couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything to explain himself. Why did he kiss her? Bloody hell, he knew why he kissed her; he'd known he wanted to kiss her for months now. But why now?

"I thought…" He tried again. "I thought you felt…"

"I felt what?" she said.

"That…"

"What?" she said again. "What is it that you're trying to say? Because I'd really like to know."

He sighed and closed his eyes, gritting his teeth together. "I thought you felt as I did," he said. Opening his eyes, he looked at her.

Crossing her arms and hugging her body, she shifted and stared at the ground. "It isn't about how I feel, Draco," she said, glancing up at the trees surrounding them. "It isn't about feelings. I think you know how I feel." Finally, she looked at him.

"Then what is it?" he said.

"I think you know," she said, looking him directly in the eye.

He paused for a moment. "So that is what this is all about?" he said sharply.

Hermione sighed. "Draco…"

"No!" he shouted, the anger he'd felt earlier roaring up in him again. "No, you don't get to say anything!"

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"It's because I'm not human, isn't it?" he bit out, nearly seething.

"What?!" she cried. "No…"

"I thought you were my best friend."

"You have it…"

"How could you?"

"That's not how…"

"'Not about feelings…'"

"Draco…"

"Right load of sod that is…"

"Stop."

"No," he shouted.

"You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand…"

"Listen to me."

"I understand perfectly."

Suddenly, she grabbed him, his back hitting the tree behind him. Reaching up, she pressed her lips against his. The same electricity that had rushed through her body the first time made itself known the second. Her body tingled, her limbs weakened, and her stomach swelled with emotion. Pulling back, she looked into his gray eyes.

"This isn't about how I feel," she said. "And this isn't about how you're not human. It's about the fact that someday, when the time is right, you're going to find your bonded…and then where will I be?"

Draco looked away, unable to deny the truth in her words.

With her hand, she pulled his head down so he couldn't help but meet her eyes. "I don't want to be that girl, Draco," she said. "Please, I don't want to be that girl."

Quivering still with the effects of their last kiss, he stared at her, his hair falling into his eyes. "I wouldn't do that to you," he said quietly.

She let her hand, which had been clutching the fabric of his cloak, fall to her side as she looked away. "I don't think you'd have a choice."

Sighing, he pulled away and began walking back towards the shops and buildings.

"Draco…"

He stopped. "Just…just leave me alone, Granger," he said, and with barely a glance back at her, he disappeared back into Hogsmeade.

Left alone among the trees, she hugged herself, the toe of her boot scuffing the trampled snow in the small clearing. A lump formed in her throat, and she kicked at the powdery snow. No, she wouldn't cry; she wouldn't allow herself to cry over a boy. However, no matter how much she didn't want tears, tears welled in her eyes and ran down her face anyways. The trails they would leave would fade physically within the hour, but the marks they would make upon her heart would be etched there for days to come.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

Hermione turned and stared at Ginny, the red-haired girl perched upon the older girl's bed. Magazines were spread out around Ginny on one side of the bed while Hermione sat on an island amidst a sea of schoolbooks on the other side.

"What?" Hermione said quietly.

"You've been looked at that same page for the past ten minutes," Ginny said, flipping through a magazine as she munched on a piece of chocolate. "Potions isn't that interesting, is it?"

Sighing, Hermione pushed the text away and leaned back against the headrest of her bed. "I guess not," she said.

Tilting her head to the side, Ginny studied her friend. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Harry being a prat again?"

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said quietly.

"Got an A on your last Charms exam?"

"No."

"Lost your lucky quill?"

That managed to bring a small grin to Hermione's lips. "No," she said.

"Then what is it?" Ginny asked.

Hermione shrugged, feeling unwilling to speak. Sighing, she glanced out the window at the quarter moon glowing in the sky. Shifting her eyes slightly to the right, she caught the soft glow from Hogsmeade that shone in the sky above the Forbidden Forest. The memory of Draco kissing her and their subsequent argument panged in her belly. Her heart hurt with the emotion it brought and the future it failed to promise.

"Is it…is it Draco?" Ginny gently ventured.

Hermione's eyes shot back to Ginny, her expression of surprise and sorrow.

"It is, isn't it?"

Pressing her lips together, Hermione glanced down, her fingers curling the edge of a page in her Potions text book.

"What happened?"

"He…he…" she began, but stopped as her lips tingled with the recollection of what had happened. Unconsciously, she drew her fingers to her lips.

Ginny watched as Hermione became lost in thought, her expression soft and wistful. However, what she said next were words cast in sharp tones.

"He kissed me," she said. "He had the bloody nerve to kiss me."

A curl of hair had fallen into her eyes, and Hermione sat upon the bed, glowering at the mussed up bedding.

"He kissed you?" Ginny asked, astonished.

"Yes," Hermione bit out.

"And this is a problem?"

"Obviously."

Ginny quirked an eyebrow. "And what, praytell, would this problem be?"

Aghast, Hermione stared, open-mouthed. "He kissed me!" she said, stressing each and every word.

"I thought this was what you wanted."

"I…" Hermione stopped, unable to form any more words as her mouth seemed stuck in a permanent open position.

"Honestly, you've been pining after him since the start of the school year."

Still, Hermione said nothing.

"It's rather obvious," Ginny said. "And, really, I'm surprised it's taken you two this long."

A word escaped. "You…"

"I would have thought you'd be shagging like bunnies by now."

Eyes bulging, Hermione leapt off the bed. "Ginny!"

"What?" her friend claimed innocently.

"I…you…"

Another quirk of the eyebrow.

"Humph." Crossing her arms, Hermione glared a hole in the floor.

"Hermione, really, what's the problem?"

"It's…"

"…complicated," Ginny finished.

Hermione glanced up.

"You've been saying that for months," she said. "I don't see the complication. You like him. He likes you, obviously. What more can there be?"

Sighing, Hermione sat back down, pushing a few books to the floor. "Lots more."

"Like…"

She looked away. "I can't say."

Ginny huffed. "Then how can I help?"

"Who said I needed help?" Hermione replied cattily.

Ginny paused. "You need help," she said. "Trust me."

"It's just…" Hermione sighed. "I want nothing more than to…to…"

"Than what?"

"You know…" Hermione said, toying with her blanket.

"No," Ginny said, impishly. "I don't."

"Ginny!"

"What?"

"I…I want…I want him. I want not only his body, but his mind…his heart…his soul. Oh Merlin, I love him." Flopping back on the bed, Hermione stared at the ceiling. "I love him, Ginny. I love him so much…" Her voice cracked and she brought a hand up to her face. "…so much it hurts."

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny said, pushing her magazines out of the way and scooting closer.

"Ginny, I love him…oh God, I love him."

"I know."

She took a deep breath and let it out all in one go. "I love him…I love my best friend…I love him more than anything…"

The tears returned, sliding down her temples as her hands tried half-heartedly to wipe them away.

"But I can't…I can't love him," she cried. "I can't love him because everything is so complicated. It would never work out."

"Why?" Ginny offered gently.

"Because…because…because he's practically betrothed," she said, that being the best she could explain his situation, their situation.

Ginny sat up straighter. "He's betrothed?"

"Yes…and no."

"Wait…so which is it?" she asked, confused. "Is he or is he not betrothed?"

"Ugh." Hermione rolled on to her side, her back to Ginny. "It's just all too complicated…"

"And that's what you keep saying…why is it complicated, Hermione."

She sighed. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Hermione…"

"Please, Ginny," Hermione said, looking over her shoulder. "Just leave me alone."

Ginny had a million things to say and double the questions. But the tears in her friend's eyes urged her to nod and collect her things. So, that was what she did. Scooping up her magazines and the candy scattered about the bed and the floor, she quietly noxed the lights and closed the door.

Once alone, Hermione allowed herself to cry. And cry she did, in chest heaving sobs that soaked her pillow within moments.

Monday morning, just as Hermione had finished her bowl of oatmeal, she came across something peculiar in the Daily Prophet. Having buried her nose in the paper early on, an excellent distraction to the occurrences of Saturday's Hogsmeade visit, she had read through all the world's pertinent news and was beginning to work through a magical crossword puzzle when something caught her eye. Flipping the paper over, her eyes widened slightly at the tiny article printed in the lower left-hand corner.

MUGGLES ATTACKED OUTSIDE LIVERPOOL

Hermione scanned the article and frowned. Pushing the newspaper towards Harry, she pointed at the article.

"Does this seem strange to you?" she asked, the paper crowding his plate of breakfast.

Finished chewing, he grabbed the paper and read the article. Once read, he put the paper down and frowned. "Does this sound like…like what…what I think it does?" he asked quietly, glancing at her.

She nodded, reclaiming her paper. "I think so…except there was no mention of the dark mark. Do you think the Ministry is trying to hide something?"

Harry snorted. "Probably," he said, taking a drink of his pumpkin juice.

"And why is it on the back page?"

"Less noticeable."

"But wouldn't you think, with something like this, that it would be all over the front page?"

Harry didn't answer, choosing instead to look up at the head table, his eyes cold as they landed upon Professor Umbridge. He remembered her crusade at the start of the year to smash any comment he may have had about the return of Lord Voldemort. Her ties to the Ministry were that of steel, and he wouldn't be surprised, if anything was being covered up, that she played at least some part in it. Then, to his immediate horror, her black eyes felt the pull of his own, and she turned and stared full on at him. A shiver went down his spine, and he hastily returned to his breakfast.

A day later, a special issue of The Quibbler was released, the front headline being on the topic of the Liverpool attack that the Daily Prophet had featured on their back page. Hermione read the story not once or twice, but three times, putting the details and facts to memory. That night, the evening edition of the Daily Prophet featured a special section on the prosperity of the Wizarding World. A message was inlaid into the words, sentences, paragraphs, and even the picture of Minister Fudge waving: nothing was out of order, everything was fine, and there was nothing the public should worry about.

It was the third week of February, particularly a Thursday afternoon, five days after the Hogsmeade visit, after the kiss and the subsequent conversation. And, likewise, it had been five days since Hermione had spoken to Draco, five days to dwell over her feelings, five days for the initial throb to turn into a burning ache that rooted itself firmly into her stomach. It ebbed and flowed throughout the day, peaking at night when all was quiet and dark, when her emotions would threaten to spill over her cheeks.

A heart is a fickle and fragile thing, she decided one night after a particularly trying day. When broken, it seemed as if the whole body crumbled. It all welled up inside her, and she was reluctant to accept it, accept that a boy had caused all this, a boy that hardly glanced at her let alone talk to her anymore. He seemed to fade back into the shadows again.

However, when it came to Draco and Hermione, it seemed the fates had a definite plan for them, no matter how illusive and secretive they may work, for on that particular Thursday afternoon, a folded note was shoved into her hand on her way to Arithmancy. Whirling around, she searched the students hurrying to class, hoping for a pair of gray eyes partially obscured by blond hair. Yet, nothing was found. Sighing, she opened the note.

I think we need to talk. Meet me in the new place after dinner tonight.

-DM

Glancing up, she cast her eyes out over the heads of the students again, but still came up with nothing.

The fire flickered softly, as it always did in their hiding place, as Hermione waited. When the door opened with a soft click, a buzz of magic running through the room as the locks and enchantments disengaged, she spun around as he closed the door quietly behind himself. They walked towards each other, stopping within inches of the other, and simply stared at one another. Neither spoke, there being no words adequate enough to fill the moment. What could there be to say? Of course, there were endless things to say and discuss, the sole reason the two needed to meet, needed to talk. It was simply a matter of wills, neither knowing how to begin nor what to say, though it should have been obvious. However, when something was finally said, it was Draco who stepped forward, his words gentle.

"I never meant to hurt you; that was never my intention," he said.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the floor. "I know…" but that's as far as she got for, to her immense horror, tears welled up in her eyes.

"Hermione…"

She turned away. "I'm ok," she said hastily, wiping at her eyes, her actions in vain as more tears spilled henceforth.

"Hey," he said, reaching for her arm as she covered her face.

Pulled into a hug, her face still buried in her hands, Hermione dared not breathe in fear of the knot in her throat unraveling into sobs.

"Please, don't cry," he said.

"I'm not," she croaked.

"Yes you are."

"M'not," she mumbled.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of her head. Her arms circled his waist moments later, and in that second, he was content. But he knew, in reality, things were far from content. And for that reason, he pulled away.

"Granger, we really do need to talk," he said.

She nodded as she took a step away from him. He sat down on the couch, Hermione sitting down beside him. And for a few moments, neither said anything, each collecting their thoughts.

"I can't…I can't deny how I feel for you," Draco said, being the first to break the silence. "It's the only sure thing in my life right now." He paused, staring out the window at the gray, February day. A light drizzle that bordered upon sleet ran down the windows, warping the images of outside. "I try to live in the moment." He returned his eyes to her face. "I don't want to think about what happened in the past…or what's going to happen tomorrow…next week…next month…or next year…" He stopped again to look at her. "I just want to focus on the here and now, and…and, right now, that's you…it'll always be you."

Hermione stared at him, her mouth open, trying to form words that needed to be said. Her eyes gleamed with another wave of unshed tears. "Draco…" Emotion welled in her throat, and her voice grew thick. "I…I don't even know where to begin…"

Quietly, he watched her.

"I don't even know how to explain…how to say…" She shook her head in disbelief. "I can't even express to you how much…how much I love you." Her eyes peered desperately into his.

"I know the feeling," he remarked quietly.

"I've never felt like this…this is all so new to me," she said. "I want…I want…" She trailed off, the words gone.

"What do you want?"

Hermione looked away and then looked back. "You."

The emotion was evident in his eyes, in the openness in his face. "Then have me," he said. "If it's how you feel…then have me."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she brought a hand to her face. "How can you ask that of me?" she whispered, her tone strained as if in pain. "How can you ask that when…when you know what will come of it?"

"I ask because it's what I feel," he said.

"It's what I feel too," she said. "But you can't say that this'll be forever."

"No, perhaps not," he said. "But what about now?"

"What about now?" she asked hesitantly.

He stood up, grabbed her hands, and pulled her to her feet. "What about how we feel right now?" he said. "Doesn't now matter?"

"How can now matter when the future is so uncertain?" she asked.

"The future is always uncertain, Granger," he said. "That's what the future is…one uncertainty after another."

She had no words to say, only the tears that once again fell.

He stepped forward, gently taking her face into his hands, wiping her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. "I can't help but get the notion that you think this will end in tragedy…that'll I'll simply drop you when I search for my bonded…"

Hermione remained silent, refusing to meet his eyes for she knew it was true. It was her greatest fear in that moment.

"I would hope you would know me better by now," he said, ducking down to search out her eyes. "Do you really think I'd do that to you?"

Finally, she met his eyes. "No," she said, her voice feeble and meek.

"I would never do anything to hurt you, never in a million years," he said. "You know that, Hermione."

Closing her eyes, she swallowed the ball of emotion in her throat and rested her forehead against Draco's. "I'm scared," she said. "I know you'd never hurt me…but I'm still scared in how it'll all end."

"Don't be scared," he said, his hands combing through her curls. "You shouldn't have anything to fear…you know why?"

Opening her eyes, she stared directly into his own, his own silver eyes that sat just mere centimeters from her own. "No, why?"

Clenching his fist, he held it against his heart. "Because you're right here," he said, tapping his chest, "and you're not going anywhere."

The ball in her throat let loose, a repressed sob escaping from her throat. Taking her hands, he looped them around his neck. Then, pushing the hair out of her face, he dipped his head and kissed her, kissed her for a third time. While their first kiss proclaimed his love, and their second set about to prove her point, the third was something different; the third was a promise.