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XXXIII: Page of Cups

Pain was the first thing Hermione felt as she stirred in the darkness. It radiated from her neck, stretching in long lines down the back of her body as she pushed her palms against the cold floor and forced herself to sit up. There was a tired kind of headache that felt like it had been there for days, throbbing in her eyes and temples as she blinked in the silent blackness of the space.

She tried to recall where she was and how she had gotten there. It didn't seem like the comfortable cave that she had made into a home with Draco, as that always had some kind of sound - the pitter-patter of water or hooting of owls nearby. This place a blank void that allowed nothing but pain to permeate into her skull and multiply.

"Hello?"

Nothing. Where was Draco? She could see his face in her memories, twisted and sorrowful for some reason...

Oh God.

Recollection flooded back - she wished it would stop. Hermione's shoulders shook like the waters of the Black Lake they had just escaped from. But - no - they hadn't. She pressed a hand to her stomach, suddenly feeling ill as her fate became more and more clear to her. Captured, taken, beaten.

The pain made sense now. Hermione's lip burned as it started to incessantly tremble. She let her tongue dart over the corner of her mouth where it stung most and her features squeezed into an instinctive wince as she felt the swollen, thick tear.

God, she wished the memories would stop, but as she stood there in the dark room with nothing but her mind to keep her company, the images just flooded back into consciousness as if it were her duty and crux to bear them. Only moments after they had thrown her into the boats, and after she had started sobbing unrelentingly, the werewolf turned to her. His features were a grotesque amalgam of agitation and what - to Hermione's horror - looked like glee.

She felt it before she saw it as the back of his hand collided with her face in a heavy, punishing strike. It was hard enough to knock her backwards into the boat, nearly causing her neck to strike against the wooden stern. She'd missed by a hair, her head colliding with the floor instead. It wasn't punishing enough, it seemed, as the werewolf crouched over her and gripped her throat.

Mulciber protested. She could scarcely make out what he had said as the sound was drowned out by her terror. It didn't seem to bother Fenrir either as his fingers - with brown claw-like nails - squeezed down on her delicate windpipe. She could do nothing to stop him, despite her kicks and desperate attempts and pulling on his wrist. The more she protested, the more the cruel werewolf seemed to find delight as his lips parted and sharp teeth shone in the sunlight.

Pressure built in her forehead. Her whole body felt like it was inflating from the inside and would pop like a balloon with each additional ounce of pressure he added. A faint wheezing sound passed her lips as the area behind her eyes grew hot. The heat seemed to wash over her whole form in waves, synched to her pounding heartbeat, fighting its own battle within her.

She was so close to disappearing from this boat. Her eyes were falling shut, almost peacefully as the pain morphed into euphoria. She blinked, twin tears falling from her eyes as her body jerked uncontrollably.

And then - he released her. Her head collided with the floor again.

The next breath she took was hell. Not because it burned - though it did - but because for a brief moment as the life lifted from her eyes - there was no pain.

So that's where she was - Hogwarts Castle.

She was going to die here. What chance of survival did they have? God, if only she wasn't alone. If only Draco...

She fought against the desperation as his name danced like music in her head. Her whole face had grown hot and it took everything in her to swallow the urge to just toss herself into a pit of misery.

Hermione forced herself to stand, nearly toppling as blood rushed to her head and the pain collided with her skull like a bludgeon. She paused, her palms pressed hard against her temples as she allowed herself a moment of adjustment - to something.

She tried to understand the room and why she was there. There wasn't much to see in the darkness. There was no moon illuminating the sky. She scarcely made out the three overwhelmingly tall, narrow windows which curved into pointed arches. It was in the typical Florentine style common in all of the castle. Her eyes followed the reflective pane down, stopping when she saw her face staring back.

She did not look familiar. Her eyes were dark, both in how they looked out into the world and from the swollen purple circles which formed under them. Her lip was torn; dried blood was smeared across her chin and cheek. Hermione's jaw clicked in place as she reached up to desperately wipe the blood off - ignoring the sting and added tear that it caused as she pulled on her skin with each forceful swipe.

For the first time in her life, as she gazed at herself and fought back tears that were desperate to escape, as she tried to convince herself that there was some hope despite having no proof to strengthen that claim - for the first time in her life, Hermione truly felt alone.

Where the fuck was the Order? How could Dumbledore have let this happen to them?

She swallowed the thick knot that tightened in her throat before she let her eyes continue their trail down the windowpane. At the bottom of the window was a thin ledge. This, she had some recognition of. The only classroom she knew to have this was the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Normally, these ledges would be adorned with rare magical instruments, skeletal remains of dangerous creatures, shrunken heads, scopes of all kinds, and relevant reading material for the Defense Against the Dark Arts students. Of course, when Gilderoy Lockhart taught them in third year, the books were primarily his own and the shelf was littered with framed photos of the charismatic and obscenely narcissistic wizard.

Her slow footsteps barely made any sound as she approached the window and let her fingertips feel the cold glass. She walked a trail across the room this way, never letting her fingers part from the sensation of cold under her torso brushed against the wall indicating that she had reached the end of the space. As she stood in the corner, she reached out with her other hand and touched the wall.

Hermione let out a short laugh as she felt the powder coat her fingertips. The chalkboard. She didn't know why, but she had the sudden urge to hug the wall as memories of her school days filled her head. She embraced these thoughts. They were happy. She remembered the different teachers that taught her in this room: the nervous disaster of a man, Professor Quirrell, who was the first to teach her how to detect dark magic; her second year professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, who was shamefully also her first crush and all-around git of a man; her third year professor, Remus Lupin, who had quickly become her dear friend. She choked on a sob. Where was the Order? Shouldn't they be here?

She shook her head as if to rattling the thought from her mind. No. If they weren't here, there had to be a good reason. She knew it - there must have been a reason.

Upon moments of her exploration, Hermione discovered the room was clearly empty. She had reached the spiral staircase that led to the locked Professor's office and turned back to continue her nervous exploration of the room. It was hollow and cavernous in its own way. Suddenly, the Forest - with all its danger and trauma - seemed like a cosy abode.

Reflex and muscles did not act fast enough as Hermione's foot caught against something solid. She let out a sharp shriek as she fell forward, bracing for her to collide against the hard floor. Instead, she landed on something equally dense but much warmer.

"Ugh!"

"What -"

"Granger?"

The sudden flutter of her heart indicated her immediate recognition of it.

"Oh my God, Draco - you're here!"

His breath came out in short, faint gasps and she could hear the grainy sound of wheezing in his lungs as she pressed her face against his chest.

"Draco - Gods I was so worried."

She felt her lip trembling as she said the words. She sat up, her body not knowing what to touch first as she tried to take all of him in and just swallow him into a hug that lasted forever. She pressed a warm kiss to his cheek, a sudden sense of dread overcoming her with each moment that he remained unmoving. He was stiff as a board and quiet as the night.

"Draco?"

She sought his shoulders to shake him, but as her hands slipped toward his usually expansive square shoulders she discovered the bridge between neck and shoulder to be significantly narrow. She followed the curve of his shoulder cap and bicep upward to find his hands were bound above his head. It confused her - why was he bound and she wasn't? Her hands made their journey up to find the binding, trailing up his arms, over his forearms -

He hissed and his whole body tensed under her with a harsh jump.

"Don't touch that!" he said through gritted teeth.

The sound of rattles clinked against each other with each tug of Draco's arms. It was followed by a sharp gasp and a panicked cry as, to Hermione's horror, the irons illuminated into a bright orange and the smell of burnt flesh caused nausea and panic to roil in waves through her.

The orange light illuminated his face - teeth bared and face contorted into pain. His left eye socket was darkened by a raised purple bruise. He had a gash against the side of his forehead. Whatever physical abuse Hermione had endured was also administered to Draco without mercy.

"What's happening - "

She knew. She could smell it. The binds were charmed with automatic heating charms, ensuring that he remain shackled - docile and unmoving.

"Burnssss -"

Draco slammed his whole body against the wall, desperate to create distance between his skin and the irons. Hermione crawled off and frantically slapped her hands against the floor, sweeping the cold ground with her palms.

"I need to find my wand - I can help - "

"No… wand…"

She froze. Of course, she didn't have her wand - they had just been captured. They were prisoners.

No wand, again. Utterly helpless, again. She didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry at her fate.

"It's stopping."

Draco let out a low, shaking breath. The bright burning orange had faded into a subtle glow and Hermione finally felt the tension in her whole body as she lowered her shoulders and let her fingers loosen from the fists they had instinctively made, one finger at a time. She pressed her hand on his thigh to remind him she was there in the darkness.

His whole body seized at her touch, his legs slowly drawing away from where her fingers touched them.

"Is it still hurting?"

A deep exhale was all the response she got as she heard Draco's head hit the wall behind him with a soft thud.

"Draco?"

"What?"

The edge to his voice cut right through her. Hermione blinked, unable to overcome the sudden confusion. She knelt next to him, reaching out again for his touch. Again he recoiled from her.

"What's wrong with you?"

The words themselves were sharper than her actual tone which had softened in her defensive stance and deluge of insecurity.

"I don't want to talk, Granger."

Damn the darkness. Damn the inability to see his face and gather clues about his feelings - she couldn't make sense of what he was saying. Hermione knelt down, her shoulders slumped forward and frown plastered on her face, all under the blanket of darkness.

"Did I do something, Draco?"

He replied with nothing but a cold scoff.

"If I did -"

"Of course you didn't - Gods. Fuck. I - I -" He let out a deep sigh that grazed her face. "Granger, I can't talk right now - I need you to understand, I'm about to lose my mind if I say another word."

She couldn't understand the distance between them.

A moment passed, maybe two, in the infinite silence between them.

Hermione couldn't stand it. It wasn't like her to leave things unknown. She tried to rake through her memories to parse together slivers of the fragmented past, she came up empty-handed with nothing but desperately controlled fear and an overwhelming sense of anxiety at Draco's tone and inability to be near her.

"I'm sorry I touched your mark," she said quietly. She wasn't sure if that was it, but it was worth a shot.

It wasn't, she quickly realized, as Draco let out a long bitter laugh. It was eerie in the chill darkness; the sound was dark and devoid of actual joy.

"You think that's what's wrong? Gods, Granger, you sweet innocent soul."

Hermione's brows narrowed at the condescension. Fire flared in her chest, raging like a lion's roar.

"Well, how am I supposed to know when you won't bloody talk to me?"

Silence.

"Hello? We're trapped in a bloody room - this may be our last night together and you won't talk to me?"

Even without physical contact, she could feel him flinch. The tension was ripe and thriving in the humid air, heard in his shallow, short breaths.

"Fuck," he said. It was all he said.

"Draco -"

"Why the hell did you let me take you back? Why didn't you fight me? You could have fought me and escaped and you didn't - why? Why would you do that?"

It was an assault of words - hurled at her with intent to make her flinch or squirm or withdraw. It was out of nowhere and it was spoken with such acrimony.

Was that what this was about?

She didn't know why but she tensed more, almost preferring him to be upset with her.

"What do you mean?"

"Fucking hell - you had your chance. You could have left!"

The sudden silence was back. It was even worse this time, washing over her like a thick duvet that rendered her unable to breathe under its weight.

Hermione reached out to him. She didn't care if he recoiled again, she needed his touch as much as he needed hers.

"You should have left me."

She could feel his body trembling, clenched tight in a stubborn attempt to control itself, yet trembling nonetheless.

"You're speaking nonsense. You know I could never do that. I'd never leave you - I would rather die -"

"Yeah, well that's your bloody problem. You don't get to, do you understand me? You don't 'get to' die. This is not your fight, Granger. You - you can't - fuck!"

His whole body seized as he drew his knees up into his chest. A cold chill dragged down Hermione's spine as she heard the sound of his broken breaths and quiet sobs.

"I had you by your face," he said, his weakened voice shattered and barely able to pass through quivering lips. "Gods, you should have fucking left me. I took you t-to them and now we're here. What have I done?"

"You didn't do anything, Draco," Hermione responded. Her own voice had shrunk, all strength dissipated in favour of tenderness.

Hermione lifted her leg and moved to straddle him, her hips pressing against his own as she leaned forward to close the space between them until chest touched chest and there was nothing but each other. She ran a gentle hand against his jaw; it grew wet with his fallen tears, helpless as they dripped hot and angry.

"I will never forgive myself," he murmured against her touch.

"Listen to me. Draco, are you listening? There was nothing you could have done."

Hermione's words pressed into his skin, alongside rows of kisses that she planted with delicate care to his cheeks and neck and forehead. She could taste the salt of his tears, and relished in removing each one with her lips, replacing each drop of pain and anger with her love and care for him.

"I will never leave you. Draco, I will always follow you. You're stuck with me, understand? If you ran, I'd have followed."

Over and over, she kissed him. She could feel him melting under her touch, slowly - so slowly - yet she could feel it.

"You were under the Imperius Curse, there was literally nothing you could have done. You will forgive yourself because I have already forgiven you, and I will keep forgiving you because you're good and you're kind and you deserve forgiveness."

She felt tears prick at her own eyes as his breaths finally soothed and muscles slowly loosened under her. The tension had been so severe - he had been so upset, and she found herself able to take her first breath as his self-inflicted rage finally subsided.

"We're together now - and that's how it should always be. You're with me."

Hermione let her lips drift over his before she pressed a featherlight kiss. It was sweet and reassuring. It was familiar. She could feel the quick jump of his Adam's apple under her palm as she caressed his jaw and traced his chin.

Still, the urge for her own tears did not subside. She felt it in her throat which grew scratchy and tight. Though her words had been shared to ameliorate his pain, the truth with which each word - each intention - came out made her feel more and more certain in her affections for him. She would have jumped into a viper's den if it meant being with him - whatever happened, it happened together. And that certainty was terrifying. Had she been so certain of anything else in her life? Hermione doubted it.

As if he could sense her sifting through thought after heavy thought, Draco pressed a soft kiss to her temple. He let out a quiet exhale - a full, deep breath that seemed to be the final wash of whatever had remained in him. He could breathe freely now, unhindered by the self-loathing that had flooded his veins like a toxin moments earlier.

"Hermione," he murmured into her forehead where he pressed another kiss.

"Mm?"

"I love you."

The words were whispered into her hair, a warm caress against her ear and took its time as it entered her mind and melted her from the inside. It was automatic, how it filled her with heat like her body and soul had already accepted it as truth while her mind sought to register the meaning.

I love you.

They repeated over and over in her head like a lullaby. It was like their world had melted away, leaving just the two of them - and those words.

"I love you," he repeated.

Each syllable rang in her heart like the pounding of a heavy drum, igniting her. She could feel the heat of his breath, the rapid tremble of his heartbeat against her.

She had never heard those words from a man. She had never heard them said with such certainty, save for when her father would tell her mother when they'd read or cook together. But it wasn't like this - simultaneously tender yet full of force.

The way he said it, the way she felt it - it wasn't a belief. It was a truth, shared simultaneously between two souls. Certainty. A fact.

I love you.

"I need you to know that. No matter what happens - "

Hermione flinched.

"Draco - "

"Please - "

She wanted that moment back - the moment where it was just about his love and not about 'what happens'. Now, as he spoke, it intermingled with the future - the uncertain. She needed now back. Just now, just them.

"Hermione, you need to know," he continued. His words were quivering, like her chest had started to. "We may not have much time left - "

"Please!" Her voice broke as she begged him.

Whatever resolve she'd called upon to keep from crying had shattered as tears flowed from her stinging eyes in hot streams.

It was like she was drowning in the lake again. His declaration of love was a much needed life-raft, but the disclaimer - his reason for telling her, as a means of preparing himself for farewell...

"You're the light of my life," he whispered, the words searing into her soul with such force that it caused her to gasp for air from the weight of it. "You're my reason for being who I am; I was a shell of a person before you and you - you filled me with light."

The kinder he was, the more she shook with heaving sobs.

"Whatever happens to me, don't give up. Promise me. Promise me, you'll fight - and you'll run. You'll get out of here."

"I can't - I could never do that - "

"Please, Hermione," he shook under her. She knew if he had free hands, he would probably grip her shoulders and force her to stare into his eyes. She was lucky, then, to have the privacy of darkness to sob into her palms and shake her head. "This is how it ends for me, I've known for a long time, I'm prepared for it. But you - you need to survive. You have to change the world. It's your destiny."

"You're my destiny, Draco."

Silence lingered between them for a moment. Her words, much like his own declaration of love, buzzed around them, alive and alight with the force of their convictions.

Hermione had breathed life into a concept he had tried so hard to discredit and discard. Destiny. The silence between them seemed to tense like a coil, implication and emotion swaddling them. It only eased when Draco pressed his head against the wall and let out a soft chuckle.

"That's true, isn't it?" he said. "I thought the prophecy was rubbish, but here you are."

"Prophecy?"

Silence again.

"It's silly..."

Hermione wished she could see his features - read his expression. Was it dread? Or embarrassment? She instinctively let her fingers roam over his forehead, attempting to identify any trace of tension in his brow. Her last tears had run dry and she let out a shaky breath as her tired mind tried to make sense of it all.

"You've mentioned it before," she urged.

"Yeah, I s'pose I have. I'll - just tell you. It doesn't really matter now anyways." He let out a short breath. "A week or so - can't really remember - before our detention together, do you remember that week?"

She remembered the night she found him in the forest, alone and unconscious, waiting for the wilderness to devour him. She remembered the night at Slughorn's party. His cryptic messages and unusual lack of snarky malice.

"I ran into Trelawney before I decided to pay some centaurs a visit. She got all foggy-eyed and eerie before spouting some nonsense. It definitely sounded like what a prophecy'd sound like; though, to be fair Granger, I can't be certain. It was late, I was tired, but -"

"What did she say?"

Hermione's voice was small as she felt herself withdraw from her normally pestilent thoughts, opting to listen intently instead of interjecting an opinion.

"Knew you'd ask that. Hm, let me think. I tried writing it down once to see if any of it made sense but... Something like 'The dragon experiences dark times. If he doesn't find the right person to find rest in, his tasks will cause all hell, basically -'"

"She did not say that," Hermione cut in.

"I'm paraphrasing, Granger. Anyway, I do remember her saying something about 'the virgin born beyond the arcane' and 'star-crossed paths.'"

"Hm."

"And their love will win or the world will go to shit."

"That was the prophecy? The world 'will go to shit'?"

Draco let out an amused laugh. The sound filled her heart with warmth.

"I told you - paraphrasing. It was 'their love will conquer all or their wrath will consume everything.' I've been very careful to avoid your wrath, just so you know. Saving the world and all."

Hermione let out a low breath. She was grateful for Draco's ability to find humour, especially after everything they had gone through, but the prophecy and all its rigid implications seemed to itch the inside of her skull as she struggled to make sense of it. In the quiet of her thoughts Draco leaned forward to rest his head against her shoulder, his face nuzzled in her hair.

"What d'you make of it, then?" he murmured, his breath warm against her neck.

Hermione sat in her own silence for a moment as she considered his words. Only a few seemed to resonate with her - the Dragon - that must be Draco, a play on his name, perhaps. And the virgin born beyond the arcane could be her. She was born under the sign of Virgo, whose symbol was the fair maiden. Hermione was, in addition, born of muggle parents. The idea of a prophecy, especially one that Draco had been aware of for months prior to telling her, had started to give her a headache as she reached up to rub her eyes, hoping to think on it more in the morning.

She wrapped her arms around his torso and ran her fingers soothingly through his hair.

"I don't know what it means, Draco," she said, her voice a calm whisper, "but I love you. And if the prophecy says that's all we need to prevent the world from falling apart, then I'm happy to play my part."

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The pair slept for a few hours before the loud creak of the classroom door jolted them awake. The sun had hardly poured in, peaking through thick white clouds into the open, empty classroom. She hardly had enough time to register the image of a darkly robed Death Eater stepping into the previously peaceful space before she was cast with the force of a heavy charm. It caused her breath to escape her lungs as her body collided with the hard ground. Her eyes desperately sought Draco's panicked ones before she felt her head fall to the floor with a heavy thud. The last words she heard were Stupefy.

She came to several hours later to find the room as it was when she had first stirred: quiet and relatively empty save for the shackled blond Slytherin. His head was lolled to the side and his eyes were shut. A streak of crimson smeared down his chin as it dripped from his mouth with each painstaking breath. His chest quivered unnaturally as he fought for each successive inhale.

She crawled over to him, her movement slowed by the stabbing pain that radiated through her back where she collided with the ground. As she reached him, she noticed his lower lip had swelled and his torso hitched with intense jolts as he remained shackled against his magical binds. She pressed her hand against his thigh and felt the tremble in his muscles.

"Draco," she whispered, her voice faint as she tried to find her strength.

He stirred, his brows connecting as he let out a sharp exhale. She squeezed his shoulders and gave him a slight shake, desperate to draw him out of his painful slumber. When his features morphed into a wince, Hermione found herself withdrawing. His pain became more apparent and intense as he neared lucidity. Perhaps sleep was the best option.

Hermione pressed her head into his chest, straddling his sleeping form as she ran comforting circles over his lower back. She listened to each of his breaths until she, too, was asleep.

»»-¤-««

They came for him again the next day.

Hermione hardly had a chance to lift her hands over her head and beg them not to before she was knocked unconscious again.

When she woke up, the room was empty. They still had him.

She paced the floors. She counted her steps. She curled up in a corner of the room and sobbed for hours - until she was choking and coughing and drowning in her own tears waiting for him. She prayed for his return, never knowing if they would take it too far.

The room was utterly barren. There were no visible desks, nor podiums. The iron chandelier had been taken down, as had the large reptilian skeleton that previously hung above the student's desks. There was not even a piece of chalk near the chalkboard.

The only semblance of life outside of herself was the half-loaf of bread and pitcher of water that would appear in the corner of the room like clockwork at noon every day. She couldn't eat. At first because she didn't want to give them the satisfaction of eating what they offered her, but as the stubbornness subsided with each hunger pang, she found that she could not hold anything down.

It wasn't the isolation that was killing her - no, that she could stomach. It was the mystery. Hermione could not stand even wondering what they were doing to him, yet grotesque images of all the horrendous possibilities flitted through her mind like photographs in an album she couldn't help flipping through. She hoped the cruelties he was enduring weren't half as bad as the images in her head. Yet, she was not that naive.

Hermione fought to distract herself. She counted the stone bricks on the floor and traced the curve of the windowpanes with her eyes. On the few occasions that she was able to take her thoughts from Draco, the guilt railed into her and left her breathless. It didn't feel right to not suffer. Not when he was so plainly suffering without her.

It was sometimes worse when he was back. Knocked unconscious and lungs barely strong enough to let out a wheezing breath, muscles plagued with tremors like the aftershock of an earthquake, he was clearly suffering. A type of pain Hermione had never endured, nor wanted to witness in her life.

Again, she awoke and he was gone. Again, she stirred and she was alone.

In a wild rage, Hermione ran toward the door and banged her fists with severe strokes against the wood. It hardly made a sound as she screamed and shouted for the Death Eaters. For Fenrir, or for Voldemort himself. She cast curses at them, screamed at the top of her lungs until her throat was hoarse and aching. She fell to the floor in a fit of shaking sobs as she cried for Draco and for their uncertain future.

When the door finally opened, Hermione was curled into a fetal ball, her head resting in a small pool of her own unending tears. She could hardly see through the blur as the vision of silver hair came floating into the room. He was unconscious. His near lifeless form was like the unconscious form she'd nursed tirelessly in the cave, like a floating corpse. It made Hermione's blood run cold. She drew herself up to her feet as the Death Eater entered the door frame and passed the barrier into the room.

"Please - " she begged.

With a spark of red, her body fell to the floor in a silent crash.

»»-¤-««

She woke to the sound of coughing. Her lids fluttered open. Her eyes ached, burning from the light and swollen from her endless hours of tears. She found the source of the sound and watched as Draco's shoulders heaved. His face was contorted and his forehead tensed as he let out another forceful cough which sprayed a thin mist of blood out of his lips.

She pushed herself to sit up, her eyes wide with horror as she saw the weakness and pain in his features. The blood was unnerving enough, but the life that had faded from his skin made her want to watch every single Death Eater burn. Whatever guilt and horror she'd felt for killing them before, she now felt pride. Good. She'd kill them again if she had the chance.

The thought wasn't enough to keep her grief at bay. She reached for him, her fingers gripping at his pantleg as she perched next to him. She didn't want to see it, but she couldn't help staring at his greying features.

"Hhrrm," he groaned.

"Yes, it's me -" she reached to cup her fingers against his face, "Draco, I'm he - Ah!"

Her hand jerked away, her entire body stiff as she stared down at her fingers. The pain she felt when she touched him was somewhere between a lightning strike and a viper's bite - stinging and radiating throughout her. It dissipated nearly as quickly as it came, and she blinked in confusion trying to comprehend why touching him had caused her pain.

"What did they do -?"

"Hrm…my..."

"Draco, what did they do?"

"Cru- cruci -"

Her hand lifted slowly toward his face and she felt herself clenching her teeth in anticipation as her fingertips pressed ever-so-slowly against his cheek. She tensed against it, her breath catching in her throat as she ground down on her teeth. She could scream if she wasn't frozen in terror at the sensation of his skin - pain radiated outward in stabbing waves into her body. Still, she forced herself to remain there, her mind stubborn in its attempts to decipher the sensation.

It slowly morphed into an aching pain. Like sore muscles after a severe exercise, or tender flesh after a beating. The pain radiated, coming in ebbs and flows throughout the body. She felt his warm breath in a deep exhale against her skin as he rested his head against the wall.

It was a sigh. Of relief, it seemed, not of tolerance to continuous agony. She reached her other hand and pressed the palm against his neck. Her fingertips grew numb as she absorbed the pain. She tried to steady the convulsion of her elbows, but it only caused her to tighten her grip on him. Her mind urged her to pull back, but with every crease that smoothed on his forehead, and every breath that grew steady, her decision was reinforced.

It was… helping?

Somehow, she was helping him.

She wished they were back in the cave. She prayed they could go back.

She let herself sob against him as she cradled his head and held him in place. His previously shaking breaths relaxed as hers grew unstable, but with time the sensation seemed to grow dull. As her raw nerve endings fired less frequent signals to her brain and the pain sunk from the surface of her flesh to a more profound aching in her bones, she felt herself growing more tolerant.

"Hermione," she heard him whisper against her shoulder.

The word - his voice - it was unbroken and clear.

"I love you - I'm so sorry they're doing this to you - Draco - It - it kills me."

As the words exited her lips, she found herself bursting with helpless tears. She squeezed him tightly, held her cheek against his, and cried into his weak form.

"I know," was all he could muster. "I know, I love you."

They remained there as they fell asleep, face pressed against face and heart against heart.

»»-¤-««

Author's Note

Hello! Please leave a comment/review if you liked this chapter!

All my love,

S