A/N – Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your reviews, kudos, and feedback each chapter. It always makes my day to read them!

Here's your smut warning for this chapter, it's right at the start so if you're not into smut it's easy to scroll past 😊 It's a bit more graphic than the previous now that Draco and Hermione are older, blame my muse.

Huge thank you to the talented and wonderful LumosLyra for Alpha/Beta-ing my smut and to the brilliant and amazing Lkat719 for plot alpha-ing.

The next chapter is titled The Inevitable and will be posted on 5/17

May

Year 6

"I saw your message." Draco hurried past Hermione into the Prefects' bathroom. "It looked urgent. Is everything okay?"

A smile played across her lips as she locked and silenced the bathroom with a flick of her wand.

"Everything is fine," she assured him, giving him a mischievous grin. "I asked you here because you've been so tense lately." She placed her palms on his chest, slowly sliding them up around his shoulders and into his hair.

"You interrupted my thrilling game of chess with Blaise because I've been tense, and your solution is that I needed a bath?" His tone was amused as he quirked a brow at her.

Her eyes slyly drifted over to the filled tub. "That's for after."

"After what?"

Lowering her hands, her eyes connected suggestively with his as she began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Oh," he breathed, his gaze locked on her fingers as they worked.

He reached up to touch her, but she tutted under her breath and lightly pushed his hands away. "Not yet."

She pulled the shirt off his shoulders and dropped it onto the floor before unclasping the buckle of his trousers with a confident flick of her wrist. As he watched her attentively, he held his breath and his dark pupils obscured his normal silver irises.

Hermione gently palmed him through the fabric of his trousers, feeling his cock strain towards her touch. She resisted the urge to smile when he gave a soft groan and pushed his erection against her hand with a tilt of his hips. As she lowered the zipper and pushed his trousers down, he closed his eyes and let out a shaky exhale.

"Can I touch you?" he rasped, shuddering as she traced a single finger along the hardened shaft obscured by his pants.

"No."

Draco let out a frustrated sound.

"This isn't for me," she whispered, fingering the edge of his waistband.

Her fingertips lightly brushed against his skin, trailing through the patch of hair before cupping him fully; the muscles of his abdomen clenched as his hips canted forward, urgently seeking more of her touch.

"If this was for me, I would be in you by now," he replied, voice low and husky.

She shivered at the thought, clenching her thighs together and ignoring the pulsing at her core as she continued stroking him, teasingly slow. Her lips brushed against the base of his neck, hitting that spot that pulled a low grumble from his chest; she suckled softly at the pale skin, making sure to leave a bruise.

He stood rigid before her, jaw tight and hands clenched at his sides to prevent himself from touching her.

"Please," he begged, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he watched her through hooded eyes.

Dropping down onto her knees, Hermione tugged his boxers down, releasing his length from its confinement. Her tongue darted across the head, licking away the droplet that had formed at the tip as her small hand closed around him. He sucked in a sharp breath as she swirled her tongue around his head, enveloping him between her lips.

Over the course of their years together, Hermione had become adept at reading his non-verbal cues of pleasure. She knew exactly how to elicit the shivers and small grunts of approval. All it took was a push of the flat of her tongue to the underside of cock to make his eyelids flutter and his head fall back.

Heat pooled in her abdomen as she listened to the unintelligible sounds that left his lips, 'You're perfect'; 'just like that'; 'you feel so good'.

Though she wanted his touch, today was not about her; she wanted to make him feel and forget.

She pumped slowly along his shaft, gently twisting her hand and tracing soft circles with her thumb as her cheeks hollowed around him. His knees buckled and soft pants left his lips, his hips driving short thrusts into her mouth.

"Gods, I love you."

His stare never wavered, mesmerised by the way her eyes had darkened and her lips formed a perfect ring around him.

As she continued, her cheeks heated in satisfaction, feeling him tense beneath her. The fingers of her left hand skated up his thigh to dig into his arsecheek; the guttural noise bubbling up from his throat caused her to moan around his cock when a pulse of need shot through her core.

Everything in her body felt hot and tight as she watched Draco's carefully constructed exterior fall apart. She had heard her dormmates talk about how they hated oral sex, but Hermione never felt more powerful and alive than when she had Draco writhing under her lips, moaning softly, gripping her like a lifeline.

"Love." His breath was jagged and coarse. "I'm close."

Fingers tangling in her hair, he pulled her off him with a soft pop as he thrust into her hand. With a playful smile, Hermione's tongue flicked against the head one more time, her hand tightening around him with each snap of his hips. She watched him with hunger in her gaze as his face flushed and his lips parted before he stilled, his cock pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He released his spend into her hand, and she wandlessly vanished the mess with a cheeky smile.

Draco fell to his knees, cupping her cheeks and sighing against her lips. "Thank you."

His mouth pressed firmly against hers, thumb stroking tenderly over her cheekbone. When he pulled Hermione into his arms, herhead came to rest against his shoulder, each leaning into the other until their breathing slowed.

Moments later, Draco's hand drifted to her chest, gently cupping her breast through her shirt.

"Now?" His voice was gravelly and sated as he teased the pad of his thumb around her nipple, brushing over it with gentle strokes.

The ache in her core returned, having never been satisfied, and she arched against his hand almost impatiently.

"Now. Please."

Before the words even left her lips, he was tugging at her jumper, pulling it over her head in one swift movement. His hands hurriedly worked at her blouse, dropping it to the floor with her bra following close behind.

The way his lips captured the taut peak made her whimper and she felt him smile against her skin. Goosebumps erupted across her chest and arms when his tongue flicked across her nipple and his hand palmed her other breast.

Her hips rotated against nothing, desperate for the slightest touch, and a whimper tore from her throat. Long fingers skimmed the waistband of her knickers before dipping inside to stroke her core.

After a few tender strokes, she grasped his shoulders and arched her back as his thumb began circling around her swollen bud. He pushed a second finger into her, crooking slightly as he drove into her a rhythm that had her on the brink of madness.

Hermione's breath hitched and she tossed her head back as she ground herself against his hand, overwhelmed with how close she was already. When she felt Draco's erection pressing against her thigh, she stilled his hand, meeting his look of confusion with determination and desire in her gaze. Confidently, she lifted her hips and shimmied out of her skirt and knickers, tossing them into the small pile of clothes nearby.

She pulled him on top of her, nearly sighing at how good it felt to have the weight of him pressed against her. As he settled himself between her thighs, his chest pressing against hers, he teasingly slid the head of his cock through her slick folds. She grunted in frustration, digging her nails into his shoulders before lifting her hips and changing the angle, causing him to slide into her.

"Oh fuck," he gasped. One thrust was all it took for their hips to meet as he bottomed out within her, fingers gripping her thigh, hiking it higher as he slowly pulled out and pushed back in fully.

Holding him tightly against her, Hermione met him thrust for thrust, her hips grinding against him with each movement. Reaching between them, Draco plucked and twisted at one of her nipples, pulling a moan from deep within her chest.

She felt dizzy with pleasure, approaching a cliff that she was mere moments from falling from as her slick walls pulsed and fluttered around him. The ripples of her orgasm took her by surprise, and she felt her nails scratching dark lines over the skin of his back, desperate to hold on to anything of substance as she slipped beneath the waves of pleasure.

Her name was muttered against her curls as Draco shuddered, clutching her just as desperately. His teeth bruised the skin of her shoulder as he bit down, his breath catching and his cock pulsing inside of her.

Soft kisses were pressed against her skin as she lazily traced the curve of his spine with the tips of her fingers. Save for boneless, there was no other word for what she was feeling.

"I see why you said the bath is for after."

"Just give me a minute to regain control of my legs," she murmured as she stared at the ceiling, a peal of laughter bubbling up from her throat. "I'm afraid if I get in now, I'll drown."

Hermione's eyes squeezed shut. "Anything?"

"Shh," Draco hushed.

She gasped as the red strand tugged in her chest, her eyes flying open to meet his.

Draco grinned proudly, cupping her cheeks with his hands and dropping a kiss on her lips. "Told you we could find it without Occlumency."

"At least we are making progress with something," she sighed. "It's been weeks and the core is still too weak to transfer anything."

"Do you want me to look in the book again?" he offered. "Maybe we missed something?"

Taking his hands in hers, she gave him a small smile. "It can't hurt."

It was unlikely but she would humour him; she had read through the information so many times she could easily take an exam on it.

He handed her the pocketbook, the pages filled with dark ink.

Hermione skimmed through the familiar text, flipping from page to page to check each headline.

Cabinet Wood

Similar to wands and wand wood, Vanishing Cabinets are created from trees which are harvested for the purpose of magically conducting matter—

Singletons and Pairs

It is rare that a single tree holds enough wood to create multiple cabinets, known as a pair, due to the rampant deforestation of these magical trees. In order for a tree to be large enough for a single harvest, it must grow for hundreds of years—

Historical Context

Due to the expensive and exclusive nature of their design, Vanishing Cabinets are generally passed down generation to generation—

She stopped on a thought, flipping the page back to the previous section. Singletons and Pairs... she had never considered this section relevant in her previous read-throughs but today it caught her eye.

In order for a tree to be large enough for a single harvest, it must grow for hundreds of years; it takes nearly a thousand years to grow a tree with the amount of wood needed for two cabinets and the magic to fill two cores.

A pair must come from the same tree in order to connect their magical signatures and create the pathway between the cabinets. The cores will communicate as they transfer matter between the pair.

In 1230 AD, Rijand Thontaw attempted to join two singleton cabinets from the same forest to share a pathway. The attempt was unsuccessful. Thontaw was mangled on the first human trial and declared deceased upon sight. His fellow researcher, Jon Wesen, indicated a weak magical signature as the reason for failure. No successful transfer has been made between two singletons.

The words jumped off the page at her, having been a footnote during their previous research, she now found herself focusing on the failed attempt at two singleton cabinets. The subject was ripped into pieces, just like their apple.

She shivered at the thought.

The leaking core, the weak magical signature.

"Draco?"

He set down his parchment, watching her intently.

"There's a treatment that Muggles use when a heart is slow and weak; it's called defibrillation," Hermione explained slowly, choosing her words carefully. "It sends an electric pulse through the chest and restores the natural rhythm to the heart."

"That is horrifying." His jaw dropped in shock. "Between that and what your parents do to teeth, I don't know how Muggles survive without magic."

Closing her eyes briefly, she brought her fingertips up to her forehead. "It's just dentistry, Draco, I told you that it's perfectly safe—okay, not the point. What I mean to say is, what if the cabinet's core is too weak to communicate with its partner from the leak? The magical signature is low and needs a…a boost?"

His face was unreadable. "I don't understand. You want us to get one of those Muggle devices to use on the cabinet?"

"No, this cabinet doesn't need electricity. It needs magic." She handed him the pocketbook. "The cabinets are a pair, just like us. I think we need to act as the defibrillator. Together."

Hermione ran a path into the wooden floor with her incessant pacing as she waited for Draco to send a message that he was in position.

After explaining the situation to Professor Snape, he provided Draco access to his fireplace to Floo to Borgin and Burkes. Hermione was waiting in the Room of Hidden Things next to the Vanishing Cabinet.

Her ring burned.

Ready

She made her way to the cabinet, staring intently, her hands raised, trembling in fear and nerves. They rested on the solid wood and the grain dug into her palms.

Now

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes. They had never tried to find the strand of their connection so far apart before.

She exhaled slowly, her chest deflating and expanding with the next breath. Her mind searched for the red strand, following the well-worn path in her mind.

A tug.

It pulled the breath from her lungs, she felt the pulsation of magic through it, finding its way to Draco.

Tingles ran down her arms and into her hands, golden sparks thrumming against the wood from her fingertips.

She focused on the feeling, concentrating it into her hands and pushing it into the wood. One plank of the base was still removed from their original search, the core exposed and humming. Magic danced in the air around her, the core spun and crackled, blinding her with flashes of light. The door to the cabinet swung shut of its own accord.

The light stopped.

The Pull receded.

Hermione stepped back, her mind numb and her body slumped from the magical exertion.

Did it work?

There was the sound of humming and then silence.

She opened the door. Sitting on the remaining baseboards was a perfectly formed green apple. Hermione picked it up with shaking hands, inspecting the apple. It was blemish free, fully intact.

With a swallow, her heart pounded in her ears; she placed the apple back on the plank and shut the door. A tap of her wand caused the humming to return briefly.

She opened the door and looked at the empty cabinet.

It seemed mere moments later that she was still staring at the empty base of the cabinet and heard a knock at the door of the Room of Hidden Things. It had taken Draco nearly twenty minutes to make his way to Borgin and Burkes.

Had Hermione lost that time?

Her legs wobbled in unease as she made her way to the front of the room. With a quick pull, she opened the door.

Draco stood in front of her, his eyes wild and hair skewed, his breath coming in heavy pants.

In his hand was the green apple, perfectly preserved.

They had spent so much time trying to fix the cabinet that she had pushed off the thoughts about what would happen when they succeeded. It was the antithesis of her exams and schoolwork; success was failure.

It felt like a slow march towards the gallows.

Draco was not speaking and his haunted eyes tore at her heart. "Are you okay?"

A look of incredulity passed over his face. "No. I'm not okay, Hermione."

She hesitated, failing to find the right words to say.

"I've tried so hard to be different, but in the end, I'm just like my father."

"You're not, Draco, you're different—"

"How can you say that I am different? How am I any better than those fucking Death Eaters? Just because I don't have a Mark doesn't mean that I'm any better than the rest of them. Fuck, Granger, I don't know how you can even stand to be around me anymore." His eyes shone with tears. "I don't like who I've become."

"You haven't changed, you're still you—"

He choked on his own breath. "I haven't changed? You think I haven't changed from all of this?" His voice cut like a knife through the air. "How do you know that this isn't just who I am? You've met my father. You would have abhorred my grandparents; they were even worse. What if this is me? In my blood?"

"It's not." Hermione's tone grew desperate. "It's not who you are, Draco. You are good, you are kind, you are the best man that I know and—"

A sob broke out of his chest. "I'm corrupting you." The words burned his throat. "You can't say that I'm good or kind when I'm basically a fucking Death Eater."

"You're not, you're surviving, Dumbledore even said—"

"Oh yes." He gave a humourless laugh. "Dumbledore. The savior we had hoped for who is just standing by while children fight his war and I fucking fall apart and take you down with me."

"Draco—" Hermione's voice wavered, her hands trailing from his shoulders to his forearms.

With a jolt, he pulled away as if her touch electrocuted him. She winced at his reaction. "I have to go, and Hermione—please don't follow me, I need to think by myself."

As he turned away from her, he forced himself not to look back, even though he heard her shaking breath behind him.

The walls of the corridor were closing in on him with each step; he increased his pace until he was sprinting, looking for refuge. The unused girls' bathroom was in view. Without another thought, Draco headed straight for it.

Air was sparse; his lungs could not inhale it quickly enough and every breath felt like a slow leak from his chest. Tugging unsuccessfully at his tie, he desperately tried to loosen its hold on his neck. It felt like a cobra wrapped around his throat, restricting his oxygen. With shaky fingers, he was able to undo the knot, the slackened silk resting against his chest.

Stumbling into the abandoned bathroom, he found his way across the room to the sink, thinking a splash of cold water should help him regain his senses. Draco rested his weight on his forearms, barely able to feel the icy porcelain of the basin below him.

He looked into the mirror. A disheveled man with a skewed tie and untucked shirt looked back at him, dark bags embedded under his burning eyes, dry from months of unrelenting tears and stress.

Draco did not know the man who stared back.

After months of working on the cabinet, it was finally functional. A Death Eater could walk into Hogwarts tomorrow and slaughter his professors and classmates. Everything would be his fault. Not only the death of his peers, but also the guilt that would weigh on Hermione's shoulders from her involvement.

He would forever shoulder the burden of taking the kindest soul he knew and defiling her with his task. Who was to say at the end of this, after all he had to do and who he became, that Hermione would still want him?

Because of him, she was aiding the very people who wanted nothing more than to strip her of her magic and torture or murder her. The people who considered her sub-human.

A drop of liquid fell onto his arm and the sensation prickled as it tracked down. He looked up; his eyes were blurry with tears. The sound of footsteps pulled him out of his trance. Glancing over his shoulder in the mirror, he expected to see Hermione.

Harry was standing a step away from the door, clutching his wand in his hand.

Draco's eyes closed, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Why are you here?"

Hermione told Draco of Harry's theories from the summer, what he had overheard at Borgin and Burkes. For a brief moment, Draco wondered if he should confirm Harry's suspicions. If Draco just told him what was happening, he might be able to stop it.

He shook the thought from his head; Harry had no influence. If Dumbledore could not provide real assistance, there was no way Harry could do better. If his connection with the Dark Lord was still active like Hermione said, it would put them all in danger. It would be for nothing.

The realisation weighed his chest down and his breathing felt strained.

"What's going on?" Harry's voice sounded uncertain.

Draco turned to face him; Harry's expression was unreadable. He pressed his back against the sink to steady himself, his legs trembling in place.

"Oh shite." The expletive bounced off the walls of the bathroom as Harry made his way over to Draco.

Draco flinched as Harry's arm raised, bracing himself—for what, he did not know.

A shocked exhale of shock came out of Draco as Harry's arm landed on his shoulder gently. "Are you okay?"

His startling green eyes inspected Draco.

The question nearly made him laugh; he had never been less okay.

For years, Harry and Draco had danced around each other, both in love with the other's best mate but never crossing paths in their interactions. In fact, Draco could not even remember the last time they spoke, only that it had been months, years even.

It felt as though he knew Harry, but the reality was that he did not. Everything he knew was secondhand from Theo or Hermione.

Draco looked from Harry's hand and back to his concerned stare. "I—" He could not choke out the lie; it weighed him down like an anchor strapped to his leg. "No, I'm not okay," Draco admitted, surprising himself, even though it was incredibly obvious from his appearance that he was distressed. Harry would not have believed him even if he had tried to lie.

Harry nodded slowly, taking in the scene. Draco had just looked at himself in the mirror and thought that he had never looked worse. The exception might be the start of the school year when he was avoiding Hermione.

"I just saw her," Harry offered quietly, a glimmer of sympathy passing over him.

Draco's heart hammered against his ribs; he did not have to ask Harry to clarify, the look in his eyes sharing a silent explanation.

Harry saw Hermione leaving the Room of Hidden Things after Draco had stormed out.

She was probably crying.

The guilt he felt added to the weight on his chest.

"I don't deserve her." The truth tumbled out of his lips like he had been dosed with Veritaserum. "I never did."

"I know the feeling, with Theo. He's…" He bit the inside of his cheek. "Everything."

"She would be so much better off without me." It hurt to admit, a feeling of dread filling his stomach.

"That's a matter of perspective. She still loves you, you know." Harry's voice softened. "It's painfully obvious in everything she does." He took off his glasses, wiping them on his shirt before pushing them back up his nose. "I owe you an apology, Draco. I was spying on you after this summer. I saw you shopping in Borgin and Burkes and assumed the worst."

Draco flinched as if hit with a physical blow and his legs wobbled beneath him.

You were right. The words almost came out.

With a soft chuckle, Harry nodded, misreading Draco's reaction, "I know, it was ridiculous of me. Theo talked me down, but Hermione, she never wavered, not for a moment. She told me that she trusted you with her life, that you were a good man."

Good.

There was that fucking word again.

Pressure built in his chest, demanding release.

"I—" Draco's throat tightened, he tried to find the words to say. "I still love her." He settled on the words, truthful, painful, and heart breaking.

"I think that's a bit obvious," he supplied with a half-grin. "Don't make Theo and I resurrect C.O.C.K. I'm dreadfully behind on my monthly dues. Just talk to her."

"I…don't know how." Draco's voice was thick.

I don't know how, how to put it into words how sorry I am; how devastated I am that she is ill-fated to be bound to me; how I will never deserve her forgiveness; how I will never be enough for her.

"Mate, none of us know what we are doing. I don't know much, but I know Hermione. You may think you don't deserve her, but that's something she has to decide for herself."

A dry laugh came out as a choked cough. "You sound like her."

Rubbing his neck gingerly, Harry made a face. "I do, don't I? If I ever rank expulsion as worse than death, you have my permission to smack me."

There was a beat of silence, Draco's blood rushed to his ears.

"Theo told me you quit your lessons with Snape."

With a cock of his head, Harry frowned. "I did. It was a…personal disagreement."

Occlumency was key to keeping the Dark Lord out of Harry's head, to keeping him safe and alive.

He thought of the prophecy, that if he and Hermione fulfilled their end of the sister prophecy that Harry would be the one to vanquish the Dark Lord.

A good man would help Harry. The thought picked at Draco's brain. A good man would deserve her, could be worthy of her forgiveness.

"Do you…" He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Want me to teach you? I have studied it for years and Theo's my best mate—my brother. I can teach you."

Harry's eyes widened. "Occlumency?"

"No, the mating patterns of merfolk. Yes, Occlumency."

The corner of Harry's lips twitched up. "Glad to see you got your humour back. What are the mating patterns of merfolk?"

"Apparently it takes singing, a prince, and a talking crab," he quipped before thinking.

Harry's brow scrunched. "Did you just reference The Little Mermaid? When did you—"

"My old governess showed it to me." The lie slipped off his tongue easily. "So what do you say?"

An arm slung around Draco's shoulder and Harry gave him a wide smile. "I say that Hermione knows how to pick a good one. Thanks, mate."

Draco's heart plummeted in his chest.

Good.

He swallowed the feeling in his throat. "Anytime."

Maybe if he helped save Harry, he could finally be good.