A/N: Happy Tuesday!


Chapter 38 - Ten of Swords

Draco's almost-confession hung over her the following day as they Apparated back and forth across the countryside.

She'd tried to argue that Apparition was too risky, but Draco insisted, and she was painfully aware of how few options they had. The Elder Wand tucked into a pouch transfigured in her trousers and a few Basilisk fangs stowed amongst her rapidly-dwindling supplies, they circumvented known Death Eater camps. Each stop brought them closer to Malfoy Manor as the day wore on.

Neither of them had mentioned the night before, but every time Hermione moved just so, a twinge radiated from her core, reminding her of their tryst. But there would be time to think about it later, time for them to have the conversation that Draco had tried to start.

At least, that's what she tried to tell herself as dread settled a lead weight in her stomach.

After Apparating just outside of Avebury, Hermione stumbled from Malfoy's grip, bile crawling up her throat. Leaning against one of the megaliths while drawing deep breaths, Hermione tried to banish the vertigo that assaulted her at the rapid-fire travelling.

A shadow settled over her, Draco clearing his throat delicately as he peered down at her. "I'll go into the village—find some food." He shifted, waving his wand over his front, Transfiguring his plain denims and shirt into the bright red fabric of his Vehme robes, settling on the ground in billowing swaths.

Hermione moved to protest, but words failed her for a moment, her throat working around all the things she couldn't say to him yet, but one thought drowned the others out. She'd just found her way back to him. Finally, she managed to say, "Together. We go into the village together to find supplies."

A furrow settled between Draco's brows as he shook his head. "It's safer if I go alone. You're too recognisable, and the Dark Lord often had me run his errands. The whole of the wizarding world knows who you are. If you're seen, someone will either approach or attack." He tried to smile at her, but the expression was brittle. "I'll go first and scope out the area. When you get my signal, come in after me." He leveled her with a serious expression, lips pulling taut. "Not until you've received my Patronus." He sobered. "I can't lose you again.

Momentarily, she was struck by the tone in his voice, then the fact that she didn't know his Patronus, and she voiced as much.

With the first smile of true happiness she'd seen on him that day, he twisted his wand, conjuring the little bird that had become so familiar to her on the run.

Theeagle owl hopped from foot to foot on the ground before her. A genuine smile lifted her lips, and she swivelled her gaze to him. "It was you," she breathed. Swallowing around the tears that suddenly stung her eyes, she sniffled. "I thought…" She laughed, self-deprecation colouring the sound. For a moment, she marveled at how normal this all felt—being nervous around a boy, trying to find the right thing to say even as the world moved on around them—before she tried again. "I thought it was your mother."

Draco shrugged, dismissing the Patronus with another wave of his wand. "It was, at times," he conceded. "We have very similar Patronuses." He pierced her with a stare. "But it was me at the end. It was me before you were caught. I've been there, and I'll keep being there, for as long as it takes to make it out of this or until you won't have me anymore."

Sucking in another breath, Hermione rose, approaching him slowly and gently tipping up on her toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. It was both a thank you and an apology for not allowing him to confess everything he'd been warring with recently. A promise to try if they made it out the other side of everything.

Leaning back again, Hermione heaved a deep breath. "What's the plan?"

Nearly imperceptibly, he shifted, stepping back from her and straightening his posture until he stood rigidly, towering over her as he rearranged his cloak in the shadows of the monolith. "They won't question a Malfoy. Not a Malfoy of the Vehme."

Immediately, the hair on the back of her neck rose, her gaze swinging upward to him even as the world spun violently. He'd pulled the cloak high and clasped below his chin, drawing the hood low over his white-blond hair. Even with the shadows obscuring his features, the sharp angles of his cheekbones and chin. "Absolutely not. You can't just use yourself as bait like that. And what if the people here know? I won't—"

He sneered down at her, his features twisting into an unattractive scowl. "I doubt that the Dark Lord has advertised that two of his highest-ranking officers have defected, taking his Mudblood pet with them."

The slur rankled even though Hermione knew that he didn't mean it, and she couldn't help recoiling against the stone. Immediately, he dropped the sneer, shoving the hood back and approaching her slowly, hands raised. "Granger?"

For the second time, she waved him away, refusing to let him see just how much the sudden return to his Vehme personality rattled her. "If you need anything—"

"I'll send a Patronus." He stepped forward, reaching for her before his gaze shuttered and he turned toward the village. "Ward the area," he called over his shoulder, the sound of his footsteps retreating on the gravel path.

And then she was alone.

Straightening her shoulders, Hermione slipped the wand free of her holster, raising it in shaking hands. "Salvio Hexia. Repello Muggletum. Repello Inimicum." With each spell, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. The restless magic within her calmed, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the shaking of her hands subsided.

She couldn't keep her mind from wandering to Draco and the village. Even as she settled against the megalith to force down the rest of her nausea, the feeling that something was wrong grew.

After five more minutes of growing fear, she stood, waving her wand over her own figure. A wave of magic rippled over her, the shirt she wore rippling through a riot of colours before it landed on a crimson match to Draco's.

The weight of it on her shoulders after so long without it was stifling, but she ignored it as she systematically dismantled the charms she'd placed only moments prior. When the final charm fell, she summoned the beaded bag, tucking it carefully beneath her robes.

Gathering her magic around herself in a formidable cloak, Hermione straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin imperiously, beginning the short trek into the village.

With each step, her heart pounded harder in her chest, bouncing off her ribcage in painful thumps. The village was quiet—almost eerily so—and though she kept an eye out for anything that might appear out of the ordinary, nothing stood out to her the further along the path she went.

It didn't stop the hairs on the back of her neck from rising to attention, and her instincts screamed at her that something was off.

Behind shuttered windows, she could see the townspeople watching her, muttering to each other behind their hands. Suspicion was evident in their demeanors, from the way they carefully sidestepped her on the street to the telltale snick of blinds pulling closed. Children scuttled away from the swish of her blood-red robes, and the silence that fell in her wake was deep, enduring, settling in her bones.

As far as villages went, this one was standard fare. The cobbled path spiraled in, lined with buildings as the path lead to a central square, so much like the one that she'd been captured in initially that it fed the anxiety that skittered up and down her spine. A phantom ache in her wrist reminded her again of Ron, and a whole different set of nerves erupted within her.

With a physical shake, she rid herself of the memory, forcing herself forward.

And then, as she crossed a small footpath, angling across a road, a sharp spike of fear echoed down the connection she shared with Draco.

Dropping all pretenses, she ran.

Cloaks billowing out behind her, Hermione whirled back around the way she'd come, pushing every bit of her willpower into her feet and begging them to carry her faster to the panic that echoed in her mind. It was Draco's voice, Draco's fear that rang through to her.

Past the shops she'd just stomped by, back across the road and down the path she'd entered the village on, Hermione flew. If she'd doubted how much she'd grown to care for him again, the depth of her feelings were solidified as she took off after him. Every part of her prayed to whatever gods that were listening that he'd be okay.

Breath tearing from her lungs, she rounded the last corner, slipping on loose gravel and going to a knee, rocks tearing her skin, but she pushed upright, head darting to either side as she went. As the monolith loomed before her, though, a flash of blond hair and blood-red robes greeted her, moving nearly as frantically as she was.

"Granger!"

The figure should have been reassuring. She should have flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck to check that he was okay, that the fear clutching her heart and racing between them was unfounded, but she stalled, skidding to a stop with a metre's width between them.

Draco hurried forward, a worried furrow settling between his brows as he studied her. "Merlin, where did you go? You scared me half to death!" Extending his arms, he moved to catch her elbows, eyes flicking between her hands and her face, but on instinct, she stepped back, maintaining the distance between them.

Fighting to catch her breath, Hermione watched as Draco's lip lifted minutely, the corner of it turning upward in what might have been a placating smile had she not known him better.

But she did know better. She'd memorized the way each feature flickered to match his constantly shifting he tried to convince her of something, his smile bordered on cajoling, truly lighting his eyes in a playful glimmer. When he was hopeful, the skin around his eyes tightened just so, and when he lied…

When Draco Malfoy lied, his face turned stony, shuttering the world out with those blinds he seemed capable over pulling over his expression the instant he needed it.

But this expression was foreign to anything she'd ever seen on Draco's face.

She flexed her wrist, sliding her wand free. It slotted into her hands, another sharp jolt of magic cloaking the length of wood. Instinctively, she dropped back another step, leveraging herself into a fighting position.

Everything about him was wrong, even down to the way his head cocked to the side.

"Granger?" He stepped forward, eyes flashing at her defensive stance. "What's wrong?"

A knot tangled in her throat—this wasn't her Draco. And yet…

The way he schooled his expression into concern, grey eyes open and pleading, she didn't miss the flash of irritation in them, the way he'd slowed his approach into a prowl. Like she was his prey and he was looking for an opening to attack.

"Draco, what's the one thing I fear more than anything else?" Her voice was rough, wand trembling in her hand as he stopped stalking toward her, tilting his head inquisitively.

A ripple of emotions passed over his face, and then he laughed.

Cold, lifeless, not at all like the Draco Malfoy she'd come to know—this time or the last.

He tilted his head again, studying her, and when he spoke again, he didn't even try to hide the scorn in his tone. "What do you mean, what do you fear, Hermione?" Her name was a mockery, and tears clawed at her throat as he threw his head back in another laugh. "Is Hermione Granger an itty, bitty baby."

There was a beat, a hitched breath, a flicker in his eyes. Baring her teeth, Hermione threw her wand up. "Protego totalum!" Shimmering shielding magic erupted from the tip of her wand just as emerald wandfire crashed into its surface. Beyond the haze of her shield, Draco melted away.

Crimson Vehme robes receded, darkening to ebony as they reached the ground. His already pale skin sallowed, cheeks hollowing and nose tilting upward in a sharper aristocratic slope.

Even before the wild curls replaced his white-blond hair, Hermione's blood ran cold in her veins.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

"The filthy little Mudblood has come out to play," the woman crooned, her lips pulling down in a sickening imitation of a pout. "What's the matter? Certainly not scared, are we?"

Her magic roiled, begging to abandon the protective spell and launch into an offensive, but a slight twinge in her chest implored her to wait.

A bone-chilling cackle reverberated around the circle of monoliths, the sound of it stoking the fear in Hermione's belly. Without warning, a volley of spells battered against the dome of her magic; a grunt worked its way through her clenched teeth as she held fast, willing the Protego to withstand the magic crackling around her.

Through the attack, Bellatrix threw slurs and degradations at her, a litany on Bellatrix's tongue, but Hermione tuned them out, her magic reaching desperately for the Legilimency connection she and Draco shared. Dread fed the strength of her magic as each call met hollow silence.

Through it all, she forced herself to catalogue the way Bellatrix moved, unpolished rage that lead to a sloppy attack.

Each downward arc of her wand left Bellatrix's left flank open, she just had to wait for an opening, for a mistake

Like a viper, Bellatrix struck again, driving a bolt of red wandfire into Hermione's shield, rending a crack in the magic that afforded Hermione a chance at a counterattack.

Her gaze caught on the far side of the circle of monoliths. Two Death Eaters emerged, dragging Draco's limp form between them.

Hermione's magic faltered, a cry ringing from her lips and she dropped to her knees as she shot her magic shot toward him.

She could see his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, but he was alive, and he was conscious. When he lifted his head and their gazes met, his sorrow echoed through their connection. A thousand words rushed at her, apologies and confessions of love, all of it laid bare between them, and it knocked the breath from her lungs.

Stronger than the pain of gravel biting into her knees, she could feel the injuries the Death Eaters had inflicted on Draco as though they were her own. Each one drove into her like a scythe, breathless and relentless in their precision.

When the Death Eaters adjacent to him turned their wands on him and his screams rang across the clearing, she couldn't be sure if the ones she heard in her head were just the vestiges of his or her own answering him.

And though she knew she should move, should help him, she stood frozen as Crucio after Crucio slammed into Draco, the ground darkening with blood or urine, she couldn't tell which.

Bellatrix's manic laughter rippled from behind her, driving higher with each of Draco's screams, and suddenly her hands fisted in Hermione's hair, yanking her head backward and stabbing her wand into Hermione's throat.

"What do you say, little Mudblood?" Rancid breath washed over her cheek, and Hermione could see the unhinged joy in her eyes. "What would you do to save your blood traitor?"


A/N: We're getting so close to the end, which means my anxiety levels go through the roof with every update lol I'll be finishing up writing this fic by the weekend (zomg) so, if it's amenable to my alpha and beta, I'm going to try to increase the update schedule. No promises since they're both very busy people with lives outside of fanfiction, but I'll let you all know for sure by next Tuesday! As always, thanks for reading along!

Alpha credits to my lovely friend LadyKenz347, who has recently published several fun rare pair one-shots!

My boss-ass beta babe is tofadeawayagain, who is hard at work on the next chapter of her own WIP!