A/N: The Robin Hood section probably won't bear any resemblance to any existing Robin Hood plots: book, TV or film. I think I saw the Kevin Costner version once, but that was last century, haha.

Possible trigger: suicidal thoughts

Marian knelt by the deep forest pond, hidden to most, except for a lucky few.

Her heart was twisted in agony; and every breath and every movement she made threatened to tear it apart. Her throat was clogged with unshed tears, and she clamped her teeth together to stop their journey north to her eyes; because once she started crying, she didn't think she would ever stop.

To think that mere days ago she was agonised by romantic indecision. Guy or Robin. Robin or Guy. She had to choose one to be her mate. But they were two sides of the same coin. To think of life without either one grieved her immensely.

When both men finally allied against the Sherriff, she entertained ludicrous daydreams of being with them both. What a joke – two prouder men she could not have found in all of England. Each knew she had lain with the other, and weren't happy about it. When good finally prevailed over evil – as it must – they would expect her to choose.

But she couldn't choose between the men she loved so deeply and differently.

Now she didn't have to.

Because Guy and Robin: skilled, brave, battle-scarred heroes - were dead.

And the pain of their loss was almost more than she could bear.

[Trigger]

The peaceful water of the pond hid a dark secret – it was deep and bitingly cold.

If a person wasn't careful, the water could clasp them in its cold, lifeless fingers and pull them down to hide with its undiscovered treasures below...

A dry branch snapped, and Marian looked up. A handsome stag appeared on the other side of the pond.

Marian didn't dare breathe. A stag was rare in Sherwood Forest; Robin's men would have hunted them all.

But as she looked on, another stag appeared, and stood near the first. Its coat was scarred, and it looked like it had fought, and won, many battles.

She'd never seen this before. Here stood two large, antlered stags. Normally mortal enemies who fought for territory and the right to mate with the females, they stood side by side placidly, their eyes on her.

Marian drew in a ragged breath.

A third deer approached the pond. A doe. Delicate and pretty, she stepped between the males and nuzzled them both. They each returned her greeting with obvious affection. Then she turned her gentle eyes on Marian.

Tears trickled down Marian's cheeks.

She didn't know if the deer were real or an illusion. But as she committed the vision to memory, she knew that now wasn't her time to join her lovers in death, as much as she yearned to.

She had people that relied on her. A town to support. A castle to maintain.

She would do what Guy and Robin had always wanted her to do.

Respectfully, sadly, she whispered goodbye to the deer. They bowed their heads, turned, and walked away.

The end.

Hermione snapped the book shut in disbelief. What the hell kind of ending was that?

Wizarding England

When Hermione wearily returned to her anonymous, indifferent flat, there were things she had to do.

First: make an urgent appointment to see Healer Profeus.

Hermione sat in the chair across the messy desk from Healer Profeus (who seemed to have shrunk even more since her last visit) and fixed him with a stare.

The Healer didn't notice. Maybe he was going blind as well as deaf. "Ah! Miss Granger" –

"Ms Malfoy-Granger," Hermione replied automatically. For now, anyway.

"Oh! My heartiest congratulations!" the tiny wizard beamed. "I must say, marriage seems to agree with you, my dear. You look in the pink of health!"

A corner of Hermione's mouth lifted up. "That's why I'm here, Healer Profeus," she said. "Because in reality, I really should be dead."

"Read?" Healer Profeus squawked. "No, dear, I don't have the time to read the Daily Prophet. What's in today's issue?"

Hermione sighed and took his letter out of her bag. "Nearly a year ago," she almost shouted, "you wrote me a letter saying I had a serious heart disease, that I should avoid all forms of excitement and that I would only live for another year if I took great care of myself. However, only a few days ago I fell out of an airborne hot-air balloon and very nearly died. Why, then, did my heart not give up the ghost and stop beating?"

Healer Profeus looked most confounded. "Oh dear, oh dear, that is a conundrum!" he flustered. "May I see the letter in question, please?"

Hermione handed it over, and the Healer donned an enormous pair of glasses with lenses so thick it was a miracle he could see out of them at all. He read the letter at length, once, twice, three times. Just as Hermione's derriere was starting to go numb, he let out a great whoop and said "Ah! I think I have it!"

Hermione, recovering from the unexpected whoop, said "What is it?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I saw another patient the same day as you with a remarkably similar surname to yours," Healer Profeus. "A Henrietta Grainger. The old dear was at least one hundred and twenty-five years old. It was she who had the serious heart disease, my dear, not you. I must have put the letters in the wrong envelopes. Oh dear! What a to-do!"

Hermione stared at the old wizard, aghast. "So what's my actual diagnosis, then?" she stammered.

"Why, nothing more than pangs brought on by stress, m'dear! All you need to do is eliminate the stressors in your life, and you'll live to a grand old age!"

For once, Hermione was completely and utterly speechless.

Recovering with difficulty, she whispered "There's nothing wrong with me?"

Miraculously, Healer Profeus heard her. "Nothing that a change in lifestyle couldn't fix! And I must say, you've done a top-notch job! Why, you're practically unrecognisable from the poor wee creature that saw me all those months ago."

There's nothing wrong with me.

Those words would have filled her with delight, once.

But now they filled her with cold and spiky dread.

"What happened to Henrietta Grainger?" Hermione asked, dreading his reply.

"Oh, she died months ago!" Healer Profeus said cheerily. "I imagine her last few months were very carefree, if she believed her heart condition was just a mild one. There are probably worse ways to go."

Hermione stood up and left the room before she could make a medically impossible suggestion to the wrinkly idiot.

The walk back to her flat was slow and torturous. With each pained step, Hermione felt the cold, familiar bands of anxiety and disappointment curl tightly around her heart. Here to stay.

She stopped on a bridge, looking out over the broad stretch of the Thames below. Boats glided along invisible paths. People scurried past her, on their way to important things over here, over there and over yonder. No one gave her a second glance.

I've made a terrible mistake.

Draco's not just married to me for just a few months; it's for always. Malfoys don't divorce. That phrase might as well be stamped on their crest.

The only way for Draco to be free is to –

[Trigger]

The river looked frighteningly far away.

I can't jump, Hermione cringed. Hermione the Coward reappears after being away for so long.

But the rings can...

Shakily, she pulled the rings off her left finger and took one long, last look at the pink glass ring. It was so pretty. Draco couldn't have picked a better ring if he tried.

The inscription inside the ring caught a glint of sunlight and twinkled.

Habla bajo si hablas amor.

This ring was loved once, Hermione remembered. I can't throw their ring, their happy memories, away.

Now she knew what to do.

She continued her sad, subdued walk back home.

At her kitchen table, Hermione took a quill and some parchment:

Dear Draco,

I'm not sure why you left without warning, or explanation, but the matter's all moot, now. I saw the Healer about my diagnosis, and it's all a horrible mistake. There's nothing wrong with my heart. The letter I received was meant for another patient. I'm not in imminent danger of dying after all.

I married you under false pretences, even if I didn't know it myself at the time. Please believe me when I say I didn't mean to trap you into marriage, and I will accept whatever consequences you think are fair.

I urge you to consider divorce. I know that this is a point of pride for Malfoys, but surely these unusual circumstances pave the way for an exception to be made?

Please find enclosed the rings you gave me. I have no right to wear them now. The engagement ring is so lovely; I truly hope it can make another woman happy too, one day.

I will never forget the months we spent together, Draco. They have been the happiest of my life.

I'm so sorry about this mess. I hope one day you can forgive me.

Hermione.

Slowly, Hermione folded and sealed the envelope, making sure the rings were secure, and with a painful lump in her throat, summoned an owl.

She dried her tears and took a business-like breath. Next: find a job. She still had a lot of money left over from her time as Draco's secretary, but it wouldn't last forever.

She opened the copy of the Daily Prophet that she bought on the way home and turned to the Situations Vacant section. Perusing the columns, her eyes widened when she noted a particular entry.

"You have got to be bloody kidding me," she groaned.

Wiltshire

Malfoy Manor

Draco flew through the Floo, with himself and his luggage all congealing into a messy knot on the Aubusson rug in the Floo's hallway. Leaving the luggage to a surprised house-elf to sort out, he set off down the hall in search of his parents.

He found them in the orangery, entertaining a visitor whom Draco barely glanced at. "Mother! Father!" he gasped. "I" –

"You're back, darling!" Narcissa cried, rising up from her chair and rushing over to give her breathless son a hug and a kiss on his tanned cheek, very high up. "What a delightful surprise!"

"It's good to see you too, Mother," Draco replied hastily, "but I have a matter of utmost importance to discuss" –

"Draco, surely we've raised you better than to just ignore a guest?" Lucius drawled with ice in his eyes.

"Uh – oh, yes of course. Forgive me." Draco turned to the guest and bowed. "Apologies for my interruption and rudeness, Madam" –

"It's Miss, Drakey, and you well know it," a familiar female voice simpered.

Draco shot upright. Oh, wonderful. Of all the bloody witches in England, it had to be...

"Pansy!" Draco tried his best to sound not too horrified. "Well! Look at you, here, with my parents."

"Pansy's been keeping me company all these months while you've been away," Narcissa said, beaming at the black-haired hussy.

"I'm sure she has," Draco said without thinking, and hoped his tone wouldn't give him away. "However, a life-or-death situation has arisen, and I need to speak to my Father with the utmost urgency," he said smoothly. "Father, may we speak in the study?"

Lucius was being an ornery old prick today. Just like he was every day. "Pansy has become so close that I consider her practically family," he remarked. "I'm sure whatever you have to say can be said in front of this lovely young lady."

Pansy preened.

Draco gritted his teeth. "Fine," he said. "I need to find a cure for my desperately sick wife, and I wish to utilise all the laboratories and healing facilities Malfoy Enterprises has to help me."

"WIFE?" shrieked Pansy and Narcissa in unison.

Lucius sighed, rolled his eyes and grabbed his cane. Slowly heaving himself up, he headed sedately to the door, Draco hard on his heels, leaving a stunned Narcissa to comfort a hysterically sobbing Pansy.

Hermione's letter to Draco took some time to be delivered, as Draco was racing around the country in a desperate effort to find a cure for Hermione's heart condition. That incident on the hot air balloon cemented a belief he'd been dancing around for a while – he was head over heels in love with Hermione, and he didn't want her to die. Not now; not ever, if he could help it.

Eventually, the stoic little owl finally cornered Draco in a laboratory in Wizarding Aberdeen, dropping the letter off with no small measure of relief.

It was Hermione's writing, Draco noted with guilt. He really shouldn't have left without telling her. But the idea of finding a cure just took hold of his senses, and the sooner he could start, the sooner he could come back to her with a cure. And then he could tell her that he loved her with all his heart and soul.

After feeding the knackered owl some treats, he slit open the envelope, and gave a start when Hermione's rings fell out and rolled onto his desk. What?

When he read Hermione's words, his heart soared with elation – only to plunge into the very bottom of the pit of despair.

Hermione's heart is okay!

Hermione wants a divorce.

She's going to live!

A divorce?

I'm so damned relieved!

No way in Godric's green hell are we divorcing!

Grabbing Hermione's rings, he rushed to the laboratory's Floo.

Ministry of Magic

Archives

Yes, by some unfortunate streak of something approximating luck, Hermione found herself back in the Archives at the whim of a gloating Madam Tombend.

"What fortune, that all those other assistants I hired couldn't even last a week!" she crowed from her desk while magically fixing her make-up. "Why, it's divination itself!"

"Yes, Madam," Hermione replied neutrally from high up a ladder.

"And of course I won't be expecting any more backchat from you, will I, Miss Granger?"

"No, Madam," Hermione replied.

"No ridiculous novels poked in amongst the shelves?"

"No, Madam."

"No telling Mr Asquith about any secret little hidey-holes?"

Hermione suppressed a sigh. "No, Madam."

Madam Tombend huffed and opened the Daily Prophet. "You're not much fun today," she remarked. "Lucky we don't get customers; you'd probably frighten them away."

Hermione brushed a silent tear from her cheek. "Sorry, Madam," she whispered.

Madam Tombend was on a roll. "And another thing" –

The doors to the Archive burst open, and a gorgeous, blonde man hustled in. "Where is she?" he cried.

Hermione froze on her ladder, not daring to look around. That voice...

Madam Tombend rose up from her desk and patted her hair into place. "Here I am!" she trilled.

Draco pulled up short. "Who are you?"

Madam Tombend puffed out her chest. "I," she said grandly, "am the Chief Archivist, the witch you have surely been searching for!"

"Great!" Draco cried.

Madam Tombend blushed and giggled.

"Can you tell me where Hermione Malfoy-Granger is, please? Potter said he saw her heading to this place."

Madam Tombend's mouth fell open.

Hermione guessed it was too late to hide. "Here I am," she said, climbing slowly down the ladder, wondering what fresh hell she would find when she reached the ground.

"Hermione, thank the gods!" Draco rushed over, but the look on her face made him decide that wrapping her in a big hug and never letting her go could wait for later. "I'm sorry I left without warning" –

"It's okay," Hermione muttered, rubbing her arms and wondering why it was so cold in the Archive. "I -I suppose you're here to discuss the terms of the divorce?"

"Discuss a divorce? Am I, hell!"

"Language, young man!" Madam Tombend, hovering nearby, had her nose firmly out of joint.

"Oh, shut up, you old bat!" Draco snapped before turning to turning back to Hermione. "Hermione, I" –

"How DARE you!" Madam Tombend thundered, her face turning purple.

Draco pulled out his wand and turned the interfering old witch into a statue.

"Now, before I was interrupted," Draco continued, "I left so suddenly because after that nightmare balloon ride I realised I couldn't live without you. I didn't want you to die, and I had to try and find a cure for you as soon as possible."

Hermione's mouth fell open.

"Don't you see?" Draco cried. "I don't want to divorce you! I love you! I want to be with you, every day and night, for the rest of our lives, not just a few more weeks!" He pulled the engagement and wedding rings out of his pocket. This ring, right here? I wasn't entirely truthful about it, because I didn't know whether you loved me in return. But the inscription – I had it made just for you."

Shakily, Hermione touched the ring. "What does it mean?" she whispered.

"It means 'speak low if you speak love.'"

Hermione knew her Shakespeare. "M-Much Ado about Nothing?"

Draco nodded. "I loved you, even back then," he murmured, "but I couldn't tell you. I didn't want to frighten you or, worse, find out that you didn't love me. So if I was to speak of love, I had to do it subtly."

Hermione swallowed hard. This beautiful, thoughtful, AGGRAVATING man...

"If you don't love me," Draco murmured, "at least give us some time? Will you think about it?"

A tear slid down Hermione's face, and Draco braced for the worst. "I do love you," she said on a wobbly smile. "I've loved you for months, but I didn't realise until the day of the balloon ride."

Draco's face broke into a smile. "You love me?" he breathed.

"Yup. Do you love me?"

"Absolutely." Draco reached for her left hand. "Will you wear these rings again, my love?"

Blushing, Hermione nodded, and when Draco slid the rings back on to her finger, they felt like they never left.

Draco gently raised Hermione's face to his, and their kiss was the most perfect ever seen, except, of course, their only witness was frozen in an expression of comical outrage.

He pulled Hermione into a long hug, his body grateful to feel the warmth of hers again. "Uh, there's something else about the ring I should come clean about."

"Hmm?" Hermione said, burrowing into his shirt. "What's that?"

"The ring isn't costume jewellery. It's a rare pink diamond set in 24-carat gold."

Hermione blinked. Then: "You're shitting me."

"Afraid not. I wasn't sure how you would have reacted, me buying an expensive ring just to ensure we had a bed for the night, so..."

Hermione started laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"I nearly threw it into the Thames!"

Draco blinked. "Now you're shitting me."

Hermione chortled. "No, I very nearly did!"

"Merlin's tits!" Draco expostulated... then he started laughing, too. "That is kind of funny."

They hugged and kissed again until they were quite robbed of breath.

"Uh, so... do you want to keep working here?" Draco asked later on, his clothes somewhat askew.

"Good Godric, no," Hermione snorted, hair in disarray. "Guess I'll have to resign again."

She peeled away from Draco, found some scrap parchment and scribbled I quit. Good riddance. Hermione Malfoy-Granger. She took the parchment and pasted it onto the stone witch's chest, in the hope she'd eventually discover it when the spell wore off, since it would be literally under her nose.

She held out her hand. "Shall we go, Mr Malfoy?"

He took it on a smile. "Where do you want to go, Ms Malfoy-Granger?"

"That's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it? I think I'd like to be called Ms Malfoy, now. And as for where – anywhere, as long as I'm with you."

Draco tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "I will make your every wish happen," he promised, and the couple sailed through the Archive doors. "Cross my Heart."

The end.

A/N: So, that's the end of Cross my Heart. I hope you enjoyed it!

This is the last fanfiction story I'm going to write, at least for a while. I'm not sure whether I want to retire from writing fanfiction or go on hiatus, but I think I'm burned out and I need to step away.

I used to love writing fanfiction, but the past year has been difficult, particularly with trolls. It's gotten to the point that every time I receive a guest review I cringe, expecting some form of unintelligible abuse. I know that trolls troll not because of anything I've necessarily written, but out of their own warped perspectives and the ability to bully anonymously. If it was just the trolls, I might have stayed on. But I have books I want to write, and fanfiction was taking up most of my writing time because I loved writing it. But I don't love it anymore. Having health problems over the past year hasn't helped, either.

I'll probably go on hiatus. Hopefully I'll rediscover my love for this genre and come back with some more stories. There's still a spark of love there, deep down. I love writing for the many, many readers and reviewers who enjoy my stories, and it's because of them – you - that I pushed myself to finish this story when at times I felt like abandoning it.

So, goodbye and thank you, lovely readers. I hope we'll meet again x

NeverNik