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XXVIII: Ace of Swords

"Please don't make me do it."

Draco sighed and cupped her face until her lips formed an involuntary pout between his hands.

"Hermione," he said, pressing a small kiss to the worried crease on her forehead, "It will be okay. Trust me, it's better if we know."

"Please - I can't - It's too much."

She didn't want to think about it anymore. She wanted to forget.

Draco sighed and released his grip on her, instead taking a moment to search the embers of her warm eyes as he mentally tried to will her to relax and give in to his demands.

"Hermione, it will only take a few minutes, I just need you to take me to the location where you found the body and we will be on our way in no time. If it's a nobody Death Eater we don't have to worry, but if it's someone like Dolohov or Fowle, then we should figure out a plan and - likely relocate."

"Can't we - couldn't we just assume the worst and go from there? I'm ready to move now!"

"Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be brave?" he quirked a controversial brow at her, already aware of the fact that he'd just poked a lion.

She scowled at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

"We're brave, not foolish."

Draco gave her a look of deeply-exaggerated scepticism which caught her off-guard and elicited a smile at his cheekiness.

"Get your things," he instructed. She let out a stressed huff before turning to grab her wands and the book-bag that she had prepared the night before.

In case of any danger she decided to take all of her notes, some of the furniture - including the fireplace should they need to communicate with Harry - and whatever herbs she may need for immediate medical treatment, though with their low stores if something dire were to occur, they would be admittedly out of luck.

They made their way out the cave and toward the edge of the wards Draco had cast. The Hippogriff was, as usual, nowhere to be seen and Draco didn't bother hiding his slight frown at the fact.

"This way," Hermione grumbled as she led them to her old foraging path.

With the recent rainfall and amount of time passing since her last trip, some of her old physical markers had disappeared and she had to borrow Draco's wand to identify the magical indicators she had cast in her route.

"Over here, watch your step," she led, navigating past a small covey of red grouse and over an enormous surfaced tree root.

After heavy, constant downpour from the past week or so, the earth had finally grown dry and the Forest seemed to buzz with busy life. The creatures moved about as though making up for all the time they'd spent cooped up in their quiet crevices of the earth. Animals from all levels of the food pyramid seemed to hop, run, or fly with intent, casting a nervous yet lively energy in the air. She could hear the sound of squirrel feet scraping against tree bark, the squaw of birds as they flew overhead, and the light and playful laughter of Flitterbys as they hummed and flew along the gently swaying trees. It could have been beautiful, if Hermione didn't have to fight through the dread.

She didn't even glance at the parts of the Forest that she'd enjoyed passing on a daily basis - the ivy covered oak tree that seemed to breathe a sigh every time Hermione would pass it, the bright blooming yellow gorse bushes, or the small family of Kizzards that lived near the blackberry brambles that she would spent hours harvesting. She stared at her feet and the small glistening golden markers that would float in the air when they approached the correct path.

"It's - there," she pointed to the wide hazelnut tree that stood alone in a wide expanse of tall-grass. She recognized the patch of dirt where the body was, and the large grey stone that seemed to protrude from the earth as if to provide a gravestone for the fallen Dark Wizard. Draco glanced at her and she could see his Adam's Apple rise and fall in his throat. She felt a tinge of guilt as she considered if Draco was also nervous - she had been so busy with her own feelings of anxiety that she failed to consider whether Draco had ever seen a corpse before. Still, the space in her heart for sympathy was limited. It was he, after all, who forced her out here.

"Stay here," he instructed, as if she needed his permission. Draco withdrew the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange, while his own wand hung in Hermione's fingers, and approached the rough patch of earth.

Hermione busied herself with the small growth of edible sour clovers that she picked and filled her pockets with. Though not the most delicious vegetable, it was packed full of nutrients, and they could use all the nutrients they could get. As she looked at the limited clovers left on the earth, she suddenly felt the urge to cry.

What were they doing there in the forest for so long? Hogwarts was perhaps a few miles away, and it was her home, the safest place she'd ever known. And she couldn't even return to it. They were doomed, she realized as her eyes overflowed with tears.

Her heart seemed to rise into her chest as she thought about Draco and his impending doom at the hands of the Death Eaters.

She thought about the lone, rotting Death Eater and how she had - for a mere moment - thought it could have been Draco.

Hermione let out a shaky exhale as tears fell from her face. The breath floated out of her like a cloud against the green earth.

Odd. It wasn't that cold.

Sorrow gave way to suspicion, and then panic as Hermione twisted to glance at Draco. He was huddled down over the brown bit of ground, his own breath leaving his lips like a puff of vapor. His fingers were clasped against his left forearm and his lips were curled into a pained grimace.

"D-Draco!" she shouted as her eyes widened in utter terror.

Behind the squatting Draco Malfoy was a towering floating dark spectre - gliding through the air as if it was being swept toward them in a rapidly flowing river.

"Dementor!" she shrieked and stepped forward instantaneously, her body and mind crystalline clear with the knowledge of what needed to be done.

Draco jumped up, nearly losing his footing at the rapid movement, as the Dementor quickly swept toward him. She could see the gaping holes for eyes and the circular bony mouth that was an everlasting pit of darkness and hopelessness.

Happy thoughts!

Hogwarts.

Harry and Ron.

Draco.

"Expecto Patronum!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the dread and sorrow that seemed to linger around them like a muggy, sticky humidity.

A bright bluish-white ray of light sparkled out of her wand to form the shape of a playful, happy otter. As though sensing the bit of happiness that etched into the devastating sadness, the Dementor turned toward the Patronus but it was too late as the otter moved with quick fluid movement to wrap itself around Draco, forcing the Dementor to whip backward into the mess of thick, rattling trees.

"Watch out - " she could hear his voice, but it was the sensation that alerted her first.

Her body arched as she struggled to breathe - but it felt like every single breath was being sucked out of her with the rest of her thoughts.

Whatever physical pain she had ever felt seemed to rise, like an imprint on her skin but - worse. Her hardest moments flooded to her mind and she sunk in the sorrow and anger and jealousy that the Dementor expertly summoned from her. Whatever shreds of happiness she'd had in those moments, whatever silver linings she had rationalized, were stolen from her with each passing second. All she had left was pain. Torturous, emotional memories and no hope to be found.

A second dementor hovered over her and she felt her legs collapse under her, her body dragging into the earth below while little slivers of her soul seemed to float helplessly out of her.

"Get - off - me!"

She could hear Draco and from the corner of her eyes, she could see him struggling with the bright bluish otter that seemed to wrap itself around his body like a vice.

"Help her!" he commanded, but the Patronus did not seem to move.

He had never done a Patronus. He didn't know how. He knew the incantation, but - oh God, what if she died? Or worse - what if she was - kissed?

Draco, resigned to be smothered by the spectral otter, gripped the black bent wand and screamed -

"Expecto Patronum!"

A spray of white fizzled out.

Shit. Fuck. Oh Christ - please don't -

"EXPECTO. PATRONUM!"

Another spray of white burst out of the wand. He felt his body struggle against the will of the wand and understood his failure now.

Draco rushed as quickly as his limbs could take him to her side, feeling the suction of the Dementor on his own face now as his breath was taken out of his lungs. His vision nearly faded into black until he could feel it - her fingers lay limp on top of it. He struggled to reach it and - finally -

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

With a blinding burst of light, a shape Draco's blurred eyes could hardly make out flooded from tip of his wand and the Dementor immediately recoiled. He could feel the air fill his lungs again with a deep, burning gasp. The sunlight - which had hardly been enough to warm them during their walk - felt like it sizzled Draco's skin from the contrast of the frigid cold he'd just experienced.

"Hermione," he breathed, taking her shivering body into his arms as he pressed kiss after kiss onto her lips. Her eyes were distant, glossed over with a thick glaze of mist. "Oh God, Hermione."

His tears dotted her face as he held her and cradled her, buried his face in her hair and squeezed her against him.

"Dra-co-" she breathed before he felt the sensation of her touch against his arm. He withdrew and saw her struggling to breathe as he released her from his tight grip. As soon as he did, he could see her chest rise with a full breath and he let out a relieved one of his own.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Your patronus - "

An unexpected smile formed on her lips as she tried to rise, though her body felt like it were made of solid lead.

"The hell-?"

"It's a mongoose," she laughed, gripping his shoulder as she forced herself to sit up.

Bloody hell, a mongoose? Couldn't it have been something cool like a Dragon or a Basilisk?

The harsh sting on his left forearm whipped him out of his bitter thoughts. He had felt the burn moments before the Dementors' descent, and it had not left as the pain radiated like a severe burn down into his blood as it coursed through him like poison.

It terrified him, but he had to look. With precise care, Draco drew his sleeves up to glance down at his pale forearm which was flexed and tight in response to the pain. Where the vivid red tattoo of the Dark Mark had been burned into his skin, the colour had morphed black and bright against his flesh, like freshly dried lava that had solidifed into molten rock.

"We need to go - now."

He gripped her elbow and dragged them both up. The otter that had been coiled around his body had already released Draco and was now tossing and wrestling the mongoose playfully.

"Where are you taking me -?" she struggled as he continued to drag her by the elbow, glancing toward the path they were not taking - the path that led them back to the cave. He seemed to seethe with fury and something else Hermione couldn't identify. It wasn't her fault the Dementors had been there, yet it seemed like he was taking his frustration out on her as he dragged her through the forest with urgent, heavy steps.

"The cave is too far now, we need to get somewhere safe."

She stared at him suspiciously, and for the briefest flash of a second she wondered if he was taking her to Voldemort. If he was behind the attack. The thought was shamefully swallowed down, but the aftertaste still lingered. She yanked her arm away from him, stopping them both.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Granger, now's not the time - "

"Tell me!"

Draco clenched his jaw so tight she could see the muscle in his temple protruding.

"Somewhere safe," he spat. "It's right there - "

He pointed to a heap of fallen debris, overgrown bushes, trees that had failed to grow properly, and clusters of branches that fell in an enormous mass of various shades of green plantlife.

"Fine, stay here if you will," he turned on his heel with a vicious look of frustration and irritation before he rushed to the pile.

He's lost his damn mind. The Dementor may not have sucked his soul, but it definitely loosened some screws.

It wasn't until Draco withdrew his wand and, with an upward flick and murmured incantation, the ground started to tremble and with a powerful jolt a translucent glimmering volcano of glass sprung from the earth. Hermione's eyes flickered from side to side as she took in the sight of the elegant greenhouse.

"Get in," he ushered her, pulling at her sleeve as Hermione tried to make out the inscription on the door.

Welcome, to all who dwell here.

HH

"Merlin's pants," Hermione breathed as she stepped into the enormous space.

Her gaze followed the long, see-through glass windows while Draco muttered another incantation and the outside world - cloudy and brewing with tempestuous flair - suddenly morphed into serene daylight. The clouds disappeared and the sun moved above them shining with the force of a summer's noon.

The glass building seemed to be about seven times as big as the structure that she had seen from the outside. The modest A-frame they had entered in had transformed into an astounding array of light and life - tall, sparkling walls that rose about sixty feet in the air and let the sunlight shine freely with bluish-purple flecks of light, illuminating rows and rows of plant-life. The building had been built in the shape of a cross with two long wings that led north and south. In the centre of the cross resided a bubbling circular fountain that spewed a thick, cloying, brown liquid. She eyed it suspiciously before her gaze continued toward the north pathway.

She stared at the lush plants from afar, taking in the fruit trees that seemed to hang sideways from the weight of their crop, to flowers that painted the path with striking splashes of colour. Each plant seemed to be placed there with a sense of organized chaos, situated in neat rows but growing and thriving with a sense of wild unkemptness.

"This is..." she breathed, turning toward Draco. Her words were cut short when she noticed the seething Slytherin standing with his arms folded across his chest, his body leaning heavily on the door. "What's wrong?"

"You're joking," he retorted, his stormy eyes widened with unexpected surprise. "What's wrong?"

She looked at him expectantly, not letting his minor temper tantrum remove her from the awe of this magical space.

"You stood there - dug your heels in - demanded to know 'where are we going?' 'tell me now, Draco -' You bloody well know what's wrong!"

"Well, how should I know where you're taking me?" the edge in her tone surprised her, her own temper flaring from deep within. "How should I know if you're well enough to recognize we aren't headed toward the cave? You could have been confused - I - "

"That's not what happened," he slowly shook his head, his words laced with acidic precision. She could see the faint vein in his throat throbbing with each angry beat.

"What are you talking about - "

"You said you trusted me," he took a step toward her, his anger washing outward to fill the previously serene space with a quiet raging fire.

It made her uncomfortable. She stepped backwards, matching his pace as he stalked toward her. He was elegant, graceful, and aristocratic even as he seethed; to someone like Hermione, who wore her blatant emotions on her sleeve, it was disturbing.

"I - do - Draco, I do," she assured, her own anger melting away at his words, overtaken by fear and - was it guilt?

"No," he corrected. The fading pain from his forearm caused his jaw to tighten, and as he spat through his words he flashed his teeth at her with each statement, "You didn't trust me."

He had seen that flash of doubt and fear in her eyes when she pulled away from him. The same look she'd given the night in the clocktower when she'd discovered his Dark Mark for the first time. When their relationship and faith in one another came crumbling down into a million minute pieces. He had never wanted to see that look again.

"I - "

Her feet stopped moving, allowing him to close the space between them. Her hands, which had been curled into fists in front of her, released and fell to her sides.

"I didn't - Draco - I'm sorry, I panicked. You don't understand, the Dementors - "

"Pardon? I don't understand? I was there too, Granger, I know what happened."

He was less than a foot away from her now. She could almost feel his hot breath that came out in forceful gusts through his nostrils. He was so angry at her.

No - it wasn't anger, she quickly realized. That emotion made no sense given what he was accusing her of. He was hurt. It was pain - masked and covered by an emotion more powerful and significantly less vulnerable than hurt feelings.

"I'm - I'm so sorry," she broke, her voice coming out in a choked sob. "I do trust you, Draco. I swear - I swear - "

Hermione fell forward into him, her fingers gripping at his shoulders as she held onto him as if her touch could somehow communicate her truth to him. Her desperate hands reached up and gripped his face, forcing his face to tilt down, to look at her.

"I swear it, Draco. You saved my life! I do trust you, please - "

The pain that he had so tactfully hidden under the guise of anger was on full display now, and the image tore her heart open.

Hermione reached up and pressed desperate kisses to his face, on his cheeks, his chin, his lips. She wrapped her hands around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder, shaking quietly until the tight muscles of his shoulders and chest relaxed ever-so-slightly and she could feel the warm weight of his hand against her back. For some reason, the gesture made her cry even harder. She felt like such an idiot for doubting him.

She had doubted him, after all.

It's not like she didn't trust him - she did. She would have slept naked and bound with no wand and no weapon around, granting him total power over her and trusting that he wouldn't harm a hair on her head. But that nagging, incessant voice would just slip into her mind and for a split-second doubt would spring up like a leak on a ship, threatening to sink it all if not dealt with immediately.

"I do - I promise Draco. I trust you - I love you - I know you'd never hurt me - "

The slightly relaxed muscles of his torso flinched briefly as he held himself very still, as though any sudden movement would force them to collapse like puzzle pieces. She was still weeping against him - a sound and sight Draco could not get used to, regardless of the frequency - and he lifted his other arm to press into her hair. She gave no indication that she realized what she'd said to him as she continued to shake and beg him to forgive her. She wasn't even aware...

Draco slowly drew her back before pressing a firm kiss to her forehead, her words and emotional breakdown slowly scrubbing away at his pain and anger. Her words lingered in his head, and he chose to believe that she'd meant it. Slip of the tongue or not, the words breathed life into him like a bite of chocolate after a Dementor attack.

The Dementors.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse from the tension that had slowly released from his body. She looked at him with confusion before wiping her tears away.

"Am I...?"

"The Dementor attack," he clarified. "Are you alright?"

Hermione blinked, twin tears helplessly falling from her wet lashes as the questions sunk in.

She felt... hollow. Somewhat empty and bitter. Perhaps it was due to the dementors, but also very possible that the conversation they'd literally just had was contributing to her feelings of devastation.

"I'm fine," she murmured, leaning back onto her own feet as she let out a shaky exhale and wrapped her arms around herself to self-soothe. She let her eyes wander once more on the greenhouse around them. She didn't even know if they were safe there, but it seemed like their best bet at the moment.

"Should we take a look around?" Draco asked softly, all shred of anger or irritation wiped from his tone.

Already intent on doing so, Hermione took a curious step toward the center of the room, her head quirked to the side as she studied the unusual fountain that bubbled freely. The basin where the liquid collected was circular and about two feet deep, adorned with small statues of Greco-Roman style figures: gorgeous, muscular men with bare torsos that somehow reminded Hermione of Draco, and feminine yet slightly plump females with modest busts and rounded full hips. There was something odd about their heads, though, as each of the figures' heads seem to be covered by a conical half-sphere. She prodded at one of them and noted that it was not part of the actual statue but moved and was removable. She pulled at it, careful as she felt Draco watching from her side, and lifted it to peer at what it was. Hermione squinted as she stared at the weird dome-like stone before Draco took it from her and flipped it over to reveal the hollow center. It looked like a receptacle for something.

"Do you smell something familiar?" Draco asked, eyeing the space around them suspiciously. It smelled sweet, appetizing, but also sort of nostalgic.

"What are the chances..." she started as she took a step toward the bubbling fountain. The fluid was a rich brown, flowing down the intricate stone and yet the thick liquid didn't seem to discolour or stain the stone at all. Hermione carefully reached a finger out toward the liquid. It was warm and dense, like she assumed. She brought her coated fingers to her nose for a brief whiff as her eyes widened and she brought them to her lips. Draco gripped her wrist immediately.

"What are you doing?" he looked at her like she was about to drink Flesh-Eating Slug Slime.

"Draco, I think this is chocolate," she breathed with a mixture of awe and excitement. He didn't release her wrist, however, as he guided her fingers to his face to sniff. It smelled like chocolate. He softly pressed his lip against her outstretched fingers until the liquid barely left a faint mark on his lower lip, and with the slowest flick of his tongue, he licked it.

"Yep," he confirmed, releasing her wrist. "That's definitely chocolate."

She brought her fingers to her lips and tasted it. Rich, luxurious, creamy, and sweet. Unusually convenient to have a fountain of chocolate in a random greenhouse, though.

Hermione tried to recall the engraved message near the door.

Welcome, to all who dwell here.

HH

Her eyes widened and she turned with a gasp.

"Helga," she breathed before taking the cup and dipping it into the fountain, filling the stone cup with warm, melted chocolate. The liquid filled her insides with warmth and goodness - flooding the crevices of darkness and sorrow that still lingered from the Dementor's contact.

"Er - what?" Draco asked as he watched her go for a second helping. She downed the second cup before filling it a third time, this time shoving the slightly steaming liquid into his hands.

"Drink this - " she commanded, and Draco sceptically brought it to his lips for a wary sip. "It will help you feel better, trust me."

"How do you -"

"Drink," she urged, tipping it toward his mouth. "I know this place - I've read about it. God, I should have known! I can't believe we're here."

The fountain made perfect sense now. Of course it was pouring chocolate. Hermione wondered if she had been sick, whether the fountain would pour out medicine for her. The same Hogwarts Founder that had created the Room of Requirement, a room that once entered provided the wanderer with whatever they needed the room to be, would have had no problem creating such a basic fountain that poured whatever was needed of it.

When Draco finished his cup of warm chocolate, Hermione poured him another and urged him to drink it as the colour began to flow back into his face. The line that seemed to become a permanent fixture in his forehead finally released as he was able to take his first full breath since the attack.

"Alright," he released, placing the cup face-up on the ledge of the fountain. "Tell me more about this place."

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Author's Note:

I wanted to share that due to the complexity of the upcoming chapters I will have to rescind my promise of posting once a week and will sometimes have to post every other week. Sometimes I will still be able to post weekly, but I can't commit to that cause I don't want to let anyone down. I am also thinking I'll post on Sundays instead of Saturdays so I have more time for editing on the weekends. I don't have an alpha or beta for this fic, so it takes a lot of time doing it all myself. So please bear with me, I apologize for the inconvenience.

Anyway - What do you think about Draco's patronus?

Weird or fitting?

If you know about mongooses, it likely makes sense why it's his now, of all times.

Does Draco know the significance?

Let me know your thoughts!

Syren