A/N: Another short chapter. I apologize. Review and Enjoy all the same! [*scenes taken directly from canon, Deathly Hallows ch32 to be specific, if it looks familiar*]

[Chapter Playlist]

King of My Heart : Taylor Swift

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Brave : Riley Pearce

No one ever told Hermione Granger what it would feel like…

No one ever told her that she would feel so completely full that she could burst from happiness.

No one ever told her that the look in his eyes would feel like she was under a blanket of a million stars whose sole purpose was to shine for her.

No one ever told her what she would find in the in-between, the in between of the person she was and the person she would become after: and there, she discovered more about herself in those quiet moments of shared breathes and immeasurable pleasure than she had in the past eighteen years of her life.

She thought she knew herself before, but she was finding it difficult to imagine herself before this moment, before she knew the depths of the person she had just shared herself with so completely.

It wasn't that she wasn't enough before, but that without experiencing this she didn't know herself capable of this form of craving. It was a selfish, desire-fueled longing that felt untamable, like she would stop at nothing—nothing— to hold onto it forever.

Her head lay on his chest, her fingers traced the path of his veins from his wrist to his heart, lingering there, causing a smile to tug on her lips. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips, and with every slow proof of life pulsing against her touch she thought of how rare, and how beautiful they were— that if brokenness was considered art, they were a devastating masterpiece; for they had known each other through hatred— through fear— through lust, and somehow found themselves here, in the aftermath of something that felt daringly close to love.

With that terrifying thought she lifted her cheek from his skin… her eyes drifted to his, and she knew he felt it to.

"What are you thinking?" He whispered into the soft lit atmosphere around them, bringing his fingers to her cheek to graze a piece of fallen hair from covering her vision behind her ear— a small smirk tugged on his lips as his eyes devoured her. "If you're concerned whether it was good for me I can confidently say I've never wanted to do anything twice so badly in my life."

She smiled, placing her chin on top of her hand that lay over his chest. "Only twice?"

"I'm going to take that response as you not being upset then?"

"Why would I be upset?"

Draco was silent then. He shrugged, lifting his gaze from her eyes to trail his fingers through her hair. She shifted her body up further so that he had no choice but to look directly at her.

"Draco… It was perfect. I'm not upset." She leaned down to place a quick kiss to his lips and pulled away, "…but I will be very upset if your plan is to only allow this to happen twice, as I was thinking more along the lines of an indefinite arrangement."

"Indefinite you say?"

"If you'll have me?"

He laughed then, shifting her so quickly that she hardly had enough time to register he was lifting her body until she was on her back and he was on top of her, placing quick sloppy kisses all over her face, neck and chest, tickling her sides with his grip, causing her to begin giggling uncontrollably.

"Mind keeping it down over there?" —Hermione felt her entire face warm at Theo's voice, and Draco's wandering kisses stopped abruptly— "Those of us who didn't get laid last night are trying to rest!"

"Uh, Theo you're on my—"

"Shut it Potter."

Stifling her laughter long enough to remember that— yeah, Harry and Theo were actually just outside the tent the entire time and at some point during the night came in from the freezing cold, and oh my god, how embarrassing— she shifted from under Draco, and turned on her side to glance behind the sheet of canvas that blocked off their bed from the rest of the large tent.

On the other side of the tent she saw the two bunk beds, the top one empty while the bottom had a similar sheet of canvas thrown over the top. She attempted to hide her grin behind her tooth as she let her own canvas wall fall back and returned to tuck herself beneath Draco.

Draco frowned down at the amused smirk on her face, "What?"

She shook her head, whispering, "Nothing. You were saying…"

"I believe you were saying something along the lines of you wanting me to ravish you with pleasure into eternity…"

She felt her breath catch as his mouth began teasing at the skin beneath her neck, and thoughts of Harry and Theo on the other side of the tent completely vanished. She arched her back as his mouth latched onto her breasts and she let out a soft sigh.

"For Merlins sake— cast a bloody muffling charm you inconsiderate sex-buffoons!"

Draco's calculated kisses turned into breathy laughs against her skin and she couldn't help laugh with him.

"Hey— er— 'Mione— what he means to say is… um, it's kind of hard pretending I don't know what's going on over there if you keep, er— you know— with the sounds— and um— I'd really rather pretend, for my sanity, that I don't know—" There was a ruffling sound and then a muffled voice, that was defiantly Theo's, "Hard, you say Potter?" Another ruffling, a small grunting noise, and another mumbled response, "Theo—mmm, not helping—"

Hermione hurried to reach for her wand and cast a silencing charm. When she turned back to Draco he was glaring at the sheet.

"What?"

"Potter…" Draco said slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he turned to her, "… he's not— he's into— well, he's with the she-weasel, is he not?"

"Oh… well," Hermione's cheeks couldn't burn anymore than they were in that moment, "—it's um, they've been on and off… it's complicated, I think."

"Yes, but he's—" Draco started and then Hermione's face must have given something away because he swallowed, eyes growing a bit wider. "Granger…"

"I think it's sweet." She said eventually, voice suddenly a bit smaller.

Draco just blinked down at her for several moments before a small laugh escaped him, one more of disbelief than humor. "No. No. No. I don't— no."

"Draco…"

"It can't be— Theo's— but— oh no— no… I think I'm going to be sick."

"I'm sure it's difficult realizing your best friend has kept a part of him a secret, but—"

"What?" Draco seemed to blink back from his confused trance to turn to her again. "You think I'm in denial about him being into blokes?" He let out another laugh. "Hermione. Theo's been my best mate since I was eleven. I knew before he did. Who do you think his first crush was?"

"You're joking."

"Unfortunately not."

"So wait— how did you know he had a crush on you?"

"He kissed me."

Hermione couldn't breath she was attempting to not burst out in laugher again. "He kissed you?"

"Yes." He responded simply, "He kissed me. I punched him. Been best mates ever since."

This time laughter shook her entire body, though Draco wasn't joining in this time.

"Boys…" She eventually said after catching her breath. "Honestly— that's… so wait— why do you think you're going to be sick then?"

"Because it's Potter!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes. It's Potter! It's— It's—"

"It's sweet." Hermione supplied and Draco just groaned, burying his head in the crook of her neck, mumbling something along the lines of— 'it's not bloody sweet, it's abhorrent and if it weren't for your wonderfully naked body beneath me right now I would protest it further you incredibly perfect temptress'.

"I suppose I should take your renewed vigor as a sign that you're fit enough for apparition?"

"Trying to be rid of me already, Granger?"

She smiled, but the reality that they had to come down from their blissful high was ever present. She pressed a slow kiss to his lips that he happily returned before allowing her to sit up.

"How is your shoulder by the way?"

He rolled it back and forth as he sat up next to her. "If I say it still hurts can we stay in this bed a bit longer?"

Her face turned serious then, she placed her chin on his good shoulder as her fingers danced idly along his arm.

"We'll have this again." She said, more to herself than him, like she needed to confirm it, speak it into fruition. She felt his finger beneath her chin, her gaze finding a stormy grey invading her, pleading…

"Promise?"

"Promise."

As they both dressed, Hermione was reminded of the guilt weighing heavily inside her before they got lost in one another. She turned to look at Draco who was lacing up his boots with his wand, perched on the edge of the bed. She watched him button the top of his grey shirt and tuck it into his black trousers. She felt the ease and comfort radiating off of him… it was a stark contrast to what was raging inside of her. Sensing her eyes on him he glanced up to where she was standing before him.

"What is it?"

She glanced down at her bag, fidgeting with the attached strings and then placed it on the side table.

"Hermione…"

"I need to tell you something… something I should have told you the moment I knew, but with everything that's been going on I just wasn't sure how but now—"

"Hermione…" He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her, making the tightness in her chest deepen with how easily he handled her— like they both knew she wasn't the fragile one— that if either of them were going to shatter it would be him, which only made what she was about to say a thousand times more difficult to confess—

"Just say it."

"It's… It's about your mother."

"My mother?" She could feel his arms release her slightly as his brow pulled together.

"When she came to the safe house that night… she told me something— something about your magic and why you may be having difficulties Occluding. I didn't know what to make of the information at the time, because, well, you and I— we were, or weren't rather— but that doesn't matter— I should have told you sooner, and Draco, I'm— I'm so sorry I—"

"Wait—Hermione. Slow down—" He shifted back, and Hermione took that as her que to move from his lap, but he didn't let her, instead he only gripped his hands her tighter on her waist. "What did my mother tell you?"

Hermione explained herself quickly— saying the words aloud only made the guilt grow heavier instead of weightless as she once hoped they would—

"That it was because of me that you were having difficulties Occluding— or rather it was your magic's reaction to the way you feel about me. She said something about magic coming from the heart, not the mind, and your magic was destroying whatever was in it's way for you to accept how you feel, I think— which is the labyrinth you created to protect yourself all this time…" She took in a deep breath, placing her hands over his chest, "I didn't tell you sooner because— because… Draco, I didn't want to be the reason you couldn't protect yourself— I couldn't take knowing—"

She stopped talking suddenly when she saw a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"You're— You're not mad?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm not mad… I'm also not surprised my mother knew before I did…"

"I-I don't understand—"

"I think I've known for awhile now… that my mind was failing where it rarely did before you," he placed his hand over hers, "—but I already told you Hermione. I don't care— not if it means I can have you like this—"

"You should care—" She said back impatiently, "—it's because of me that everything you've done to protect yourself is crumbling—"

"It's also because of you that I know there are far greater things to want to protect than just myself." Draco smiled up at her and she found she couldn't think properly. This was not how she expected him to react. "The memory you saw back at Gringotts… the one in the bookshop. You remember it, don't you?"

Hermione nodded, her heartbeat pounding in her ears as she waited for him to piece together what he was attempting to tell her.

The moment Hermione looked up at him after they made love earlier Draco felt something click inside his mind— something he had stopped denying, he wasn't sure when he stopped exactly, but he had stopped denying it— the tangible difference within his mind. He's felt his magic shifting inside him ever since he stepped into the small pool of crimson surrounding Hermione's unconscious body on his drawing room floor. He had come up with a handful of theories for why his labyrinth started to deteriorate that didn't involve the perfect witch curled in his arms, but he wasn't naive. He knew. Instinctively, he felt himself trying to reach for a vine within his labyrinth, for something, but stopped himself… instead, he only tucked her small frame closer to his chest, burying his nose into her curls.

"That was the memory that trigged it I think… during one of my Occlumency lessons with Snape he dug up that memory… I hadn't even known I buried it, but after I saved you— he found that memory and watching it again, knowing what I do now…

"…it was like it placed a crack in my mind where I kept every repressed emotion I've ever had, and the more time I spent thinking about you the crack just kept growing and there was nothing I could do to stop it— I didn't want to…" He paused for a moment, his voice growing softer as he dropped his gaze to her hands resting on his chest, placing a soft kiss on them and keeping his lips there as he continued, "I think that memory represented something more for me, you know? Like maybe I wasn't supposed to be the boy who bullied you— like maybe I could have been someone else to you— something better… If I had just allowed myself to listen to my heart instead of my father—"

Hermione swallowed the growing lump in her throat.

"Draco…"

He pulled back to look at her. "So please don't feel guilty for giving me a chance to be something better for you— I never deserved it, but now that I know what it feels like— to be something better..." He shook his head and smiled at her, a smile that tore at the seams of her lightly stitched heart. "Just don't feel guilty, okay?"

She wanted what he was saying to be enough. She did, but she knew it wasn't that simple. At the mention of his father she was reminded of that…

"Draco… there's something else." She reached for her bag. "Something else I should have told you about the night your mother visited me…"

He stared down at the string laying in Hermione's hand as she studied his expression turning from confusion to something similar to what Hermione imagined was unabridged fear.

"W-Where did you—" He swallowed, reaching for the ring attached to the vial and string. "This is my mother's ring. She— She gave this to you? Why?"

Hermione shifted from his lap then. This time he didn't stop her. She moved to kneel before him, pleading with her heart to stop hammering so desperately inside her chest.

"Hermione… why didn't you tell me she gave you this?"

"I'm sorry…" She chocked out. "I wanted to—"

"But you didn't."

The tender stitchings around her heart ripped then. She could feel each one unlacing with every second that passed.

"What else did she say?"

"That vial… it contains a memory— a memory she asked that I not view until the war is over… with you."

"And the ring?"

Hermione dropped her gaze then, knowing that Draco could sense whatever she was about to say would shatter him. She inhaled a shaky breath before lifting her gaze, panic was easily recognized beyond his usual expression of calm by the subtle movements of his eyes darting across her face.

—there is no certainty with accepting this ring, I only ask that you consider keeping it safe for me until you do decide—

Hermione suddenly felt sick with the burden his mother had placed upon her shoulders.

Not only was she responsible for sorting out her own feelings towards Draco (which, yes, obviously they had developed since then)— not only was she responsible for the ramifications of what his feelings meant for his safety (which, yes, he insisted he was more than alright with)— but she was also now responsible for telling Draco that his mother was planning for the possibility to never see him again.

It was suffocating her and she wanted to release it, she needed to— but as she looked at the boy before her, it made it impossible for her to give into the selfish desire to just blurt it out. She hated knowing her honesty was only going to put him through more heartache.

"She asked me to keep it safe."

He frowned further, hesitantly meeting her stare. He swallowed, his eyes began to glaze over and Hermione recognized it— she did, but it was different this time. Where she could normally see the clouded fog darkening behind his gaze, blocking him from the scattered emotions attempting to control him, she now saw nothing but an utter rawness that embodied the exact shade of crippling fear. He couldn't hide from it this time and she wondered if he was regretting what he said moments ago, about him being alright with not being able to shield himself as he once could.

"What aren't you saying Hermione? What do you know?"

Hermione reached up to place one hand on his cheek, her own now accompanied by a single tear. He didn't move. She didn't even really think he was looking at her anymore, though his eyes remained on hers. Before she could tell him what she imagined Narcissa meant in giving her these items he was already moving to his feet. Hermione remained on her knees, attempting to rationalize a reason for him to remain sitting, but she found none.

"I just…" He started. Hermione stood then, intending to reach out to him, but he lifted his hands in front of him, closing his eyes. "I just— I need a moment."

Hermione watched as he stepped backwards and shoved the canvas wall away, disappearing on the other side. She followed after him, but he was already exiting the tent. She inhaled a shaky breath, wrapping her arms around her torso.

"What was that about?" Theo asked shoving away from the table he was sitting at with Harry.

"'Mione— are you alright?" Harry asked just as quickly moving to her side.

"I, um— I'm not— I don't know."

"Should we go after him?" Harry was asking Theo then.

"He said he just needed a moment, but I…" She trailed off and felt Harry's arm wrap around her shoulders.

"Why don't you and Theo start packing up…" Harry said then. "I'll go check on him."

Theo stepped in front of Harry, lifting a brow, "You sure that's the best idea? I know Draco, if he storms out like that it's usually best just to—"

"Just help Hermione get everything ready to leave. I'll be right back with Malfoy."

Theo nodded, taking a step out of Harry's way. "If you say so."

Theo turned to see Hermione already distracting herself with packing everything away magically and sighed, joining her in the thick silence that followed Harry going after Draco.

*Shrieking Shack

The room was desolate, with peeling paper on the walls and tall the windows boarded up expect for one. He was rolling his wand between his fingers, watching it, his thoughts on the room in the castle, the secret room only he had ever found, the room, like a chamber, that you had to be clever and cunning and inquisitive to discover… He was confident that the boy would not find the diadem… although Dumbledore's puppet had come much farther than he ever expected… and with Draco Malfoy helping him… well, he thought perhaps the boy had come too far…

"My Lord," said a voice, desperate and cracked. He turned: there was Lucius Malfoy standing in the darkest corner, ragged and still bearing marks of the punishment he had received, along with his sister-in-law, after the prisoners escape. One of Lucius eyes remain closed and puffy.

"My Lord… please… my son…"

"Your son is as good as dead and when the time comes to fight and I find that he is not in fact dead, his betrayal in befriending Harry Potter will be his own undoing. You and your wife are lucky I do not murder you for your incompetence once again, but I still have use for Malfoy blood yet…"

"Draco would never betray you My Lord…" Bellatrix breathed heavy, coming to kneel before Voldemort. "He is a foolish boy who should be punished, but perhaps we could use his connections to the Potter boy— perhaps he will bring him to us—"

"Enough!" Voldemort hissed, turning to Lucius. "I have no need to seek the boy… soon enough he will come to me." Voldemort's gaze filtered down to the wand within his grasp, flickering to Nagini momentarily before settling on Lucius once more. It troubled him. This wand. And things that troubled Voldemort needed to be rearranged… "Go and fetch Snape."

"Snape, m-my Lord?"

"Snape! Now. I need him. There is a— service— I require from him. Go."

Frightened, stumbling a little through the room, the two followers feed with vigor.

"It's the only way, Nagini," he whispered, and he looked around, and there was the great thick snake, now suspended in midair, twisting gracefully within the enchanted, protected space he made for her, a starry, transparent sphere somewhere between a glittering cage and a tank.

Severus Snape found himself returning to very place he detested most, as it reminded him of the very person who he felt indebted to, despite his reoccurring success of protecting his son's life, this place would always remind him that James Potter had saved him from the rate of being ripped apart by Remus Lupin on the night of that frightful full moon all those years ago.

His attention was aburptly turned to the Dark Lord, his back was to Snape as he ascended the stairs. He was standing at the lone unbounded window, moonlight shuffling through… Snape's gaze landed on the wand in his hands, and he straightened his composure, preparing for what was to come…

"…my Lord, the time is coming. Everything is in place at the castle. What other service may I be of you?"

Voldemort turned, and it was then that the bright sphere appeared to Snape, his gaze focused on the bright globe hovering in the air, the large thick snake circling within the protection of the sphere. He showed vague interest, but never fear; not even as the red eyes, the flattened, serpentine face, and the pallor of him gleamed slightly in the semidarkness of the shack.

"I have a problem, Severus," said Voldemort softly, raising the wand in his grasp."Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?"

Snape knew the question wasn't a question at all. Voldemort believed he knew. Snape was prepared to die knowing what he did not.

"My Lord." Said Snape blankly. "I do not understand. You have preformed extraordinary magic with that wand."

"No." Voldemort shot back, stepping closer to him. "I have preferred my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand… no. It's wonders have not been revealed to me… No difference between this one and the last…"

"If it is the boy you seek, I can surely bring him to you… now that we know he is with Draco—"

"You sound like Lucius." Voldemort chuckled, turning to face the glowing sphere, Nagini hissing adoringly back at him. "Neither of you understand Potter as I do. I know his weakness. I will reveal it in time, that his greatest flaw has always been watching others die, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come to me then. But only then…"

"My Lord—"

"My instructions have been perfectly clear. We wait until Greyback strikes. Kill Potter's friends— the more, the better— Then the boy will come."

There was a stretch of silence then and Snape strengthened his minds shields to cover the inner parts of him that he needed hidden most— parts of him that conveyed: a woman with red hair laying dead in his arms, Dumbledore's intstructions over the wand, a young boy with pale blonde hair—

"But it is you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable. My concern is not to find the boy, but what shall happen once I do—"

"My Lord— there can be no question of your power over the boy, surely—"

"—but there is a question, Severus. There is."

Voldemort halted, lifting the wand and pointing at Nagini, staring at Snape all the while.

"You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen…"

"My Lord—"

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine."

Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a moment foolishly believed he would find mercy at the hand of the dark wizard before him, but alas it was not to last…

"Nagini…"

The feeling of betrayal, once realized, settles deep into your bones until the ache of it is all you can feel, and with every quick step forward Draco feels the ache of it claiming him; but he also knows the initial shock of betrayal— the shock that it was Hermione who kept this information about his mother from him— subsided as quickly as it formed, because he should have known— he should have realized it sooner—

He remembered the look on his mother's face after his interrogation with the Dark Lord before he was sent to recruit the centaurs. He left so abruptly, even after sensing that she was trying to hold onto him a moment longer. Was she trying to tell him goodbye?

That thought choked him. He couldn't breath. His footsteps became heavier the further away he got from the tent.

Without the structure of his labyrinth the memories were more difficult to recall, but he could feel them burning inside him all the same—

Mink… My mother… was she with him?

Minks hesitant answer, No. Misses is not happy with the Other Master and Misses is forbidding Mink from tending to the Misses…

The words lashing against his skull. Again, Misses is forbidding Mink from tending to the Misses…

The curse.

Mother— Is she? —

His fathers desperation ebbing into his lifeless eyes and timid voice, as he held the twin dagger, She's alive… For now… and I intend to keep her that way. It's why I'm here. Dolohov and Nott Sr. have bargained to assist me— for a cost of course, but one I will surely pay for in due time.

Had his father found a way to cure her?

And the ring?

Hermione telling him what he should have already pieced together, She asked me to keep it safe—

She asked me to keep it safe—

In case she—

As if she were preparing to—

Draco felt the cool dirt digging in to his knees as his' legs caved under the weight of the truth, the truth of who the betrayal really came from—

"Malfoy."

Draco didn't care that Harry Potter was standing behind him. He didn't care that he was shaking, doubled over with one hand gripped onto a tree for support while the other clung over his chest, attempting to catch his fucking breath, attempting to not crumble under the guilt that he hadn't realized it before this moment—

"Malfoy?"

Potter was kneeling next to him then.

As if she were preparing—

"Malfoy…"

He turned to look at him then, the last person he wanted to see at that moment. He wanted to punch him, but found he couldn't move.

"My mother intends to die. She's known she wouldn't survive the end of this and she still— she let me think I could still save her..." Draco wasn't sure what made him confess this to Harry Potter of all people, but he said it all the same.

"Maybe—" Harry started, clearing his throat as he met Draco's heavy gaze, "—maybe because in doing so she believes she'll be saving you… and if it means her life or yours, she knows it's not really a choice."

Draco could sense the far away tone in Harry's voice as he spoke, as if he weren't saying it to him at all.

"I can still protect her. I can still keep her alive."

"Maybe so… but if she's kept it from you, her knowing her fate that is, it was probably only to protect you from the pain you're feeling right now."

Draco just stared at him for a moment, unsure if he wanted to still punch him or just turn away; instead he just nodded, unable to truly consider much of anything, least of all— a philosophical Potter.

"What makes you think she knows?"

"She's always known more than a person should. She can sense things happening before they do. And she gave Hermione something— something she would never part with unless— unless she was preparing to die."

Harry nodded. He remained silent and Draco was grateful for it, but it only stretched for a few minutes before Harry spoke again.

"Is that how she helped you get into the vault? Because she knew you'd need to break into it?"

Draco nodded.

"So she must have known you were helping me then?"

Draco shrugged, uncertain what he was getting at. "Yeah— I suppose so. Maybe…"

"Hmmm…"

"Out with it Potter."

"Well, it's just interesting is all… that she would want you to."

"Why because my entire family hates you?"

"Well, yeah…" Harry said simply, but then added, "…but something must have made her accept it— you helping me, that is."

Draco frowned as he considered Potter's perspective. Potter was right— ughh, that felt like torture admitting even inwardly— but he did have a point…

"If she can really sense what will happen before they do then maybe she knew…"

"Stop talking." Draco said suddenly, springing to his feet.

"Malfoy, I'm just trying to help—"

"No. I know— but just— stop talking for a second." Draco began pacing, his thoughts unraveling with an overwhelming urgency.

If his mother knew to help him at Gringott's then she must have foreseen something happening that she felt Draco needed to do— she had been overly supportive in her own way (read: minding her own business) in regards to Draco's choices as of late… She knew about Hermione. She knew about helping Potter hunt Horcruxes. So she must have foreseen much more—

"The prophecy!" Draco said, stopping just before Harry, and then immediately headed towards the tent.

"Never liked those much." Harry mumbled at Draco's retreating back, though he was certain he had no clue what he was talking about.

When Draco burst through the tent both Theo and Hermione stood to their feet, glancing over him worriedly.

"What'd you do to him?" Theo asked Harry as they both strode deeper into the tent. "He's all emotional and fidgety— it's frightening."

"Dunno—" Harry answered as he watched Draco hurry towards Hermione. "Something to do with his mum and a prophecy?"

"Draco— what's going on?" She asked as he frantically placed his hands on either side of her shoulders.

"My mother knew I would save you. She knew because she can speak to the heavens— or whatever—"

"I'm not following." Theo mumbled behind him.

"Same." Harry agreed.

Draco turned to face all of them.

"The fucking prophecy— she told the centaurs it shifted, and the centaurs told me—" Draco pointed to himself, "—the Dragon— was the reason it did!"

The three of them shared looks of bemusement and Draco let out a loud groan. Thinking of the best way to explain it to them and then settled his sights on Hermione.

"Hermione— you've got my journals don't you?"

She nodded as she summoned her bag and handed him his journal and a quill. Draco immediately moved to the table and started sketching out his thoughts. He found it impossible to do without Occlumency and sketching it out had always helped him make sense of things before, so…

"This looks like it may take a while—" Theo muttered.

Hermione ignored him and moved to stand behind Draco, watching his hand move across the page with a burst of urgency. After several moments he stood, handing it to her and nodding at Theo and Harry.

"Go on— touch it."

Theo smirked. Hermione smaked him before he could comment on the innuendo.

"What are we doing exactly?" Harry asked hesitantly but complied as he saw Hermione already gripping the journal waiting on him expectantly.

"Are you sure you'll be able to preform the spell now that you can't access your labyrinth?" Hermione asked Draco then.

"Positive. Two different forms of magic. One shields memories while the other releases them." He confirmed and then took a step back and mumbled, "Well… fairly positive."

"That's comforting…" Theo mumbled, but placed his hand on the journal all the same.

"It's going to be unsettling at first, but just know your skin isn't actually being splinched from your bones— it only feels like it is."

"I was wrong before—" Theo added, "—that was definitely more comforting."

Harry sighed. "If this will make Malfoy stop panting like a maniac then let's get this over with…"

"Ready?" Draco asked Hermione.

She nodded. "Ready."

Remus Lupin had long sense accepted his fate of dying for this cause, but as he thought of his wife and son his will to survive was more apart than ever. He had never imagined himself worthy of having a family, and the memories that reminded him the closest he came to a family were all haunted with grief and loss. Thoughts of Sirius, James, and Lily often reminded him why he was fighting, not that he needed a reminder, his very existence was enough to make him believe it so. Being a werewolf had never been viewed to him as anything more than a disease, a curse placed upon him to ensure those he loved would never live a full life as long as they kept him among them... slowly that belief had morphed into something different, not entirely acceptance for what he was... he feared that would never come... but he had been given purpose within his disease. The truth that he happened to find Tonks and create their beautiful son was more than he would have ever asked the Fates for... often times he wondered if he truly deserved it.

His purpose was renewed the moment Dumbledore tasked him once with being a spy in the Werewolf community, which was quite literally 'underground'... There he was able to claim his understanding around his disease and help others adjust to it. His hopes to shift the newly turned Werewolves allegiance to support the Order fell short on almost every occurrence. Most were either too loyal to Voldemort or too terrified of Greyback's wrath if they were found out.

And it was, perhaps, this truth and the disappointment for feeling as if he failed Dumbledore for not recruiting any werewolves that caused him to feel an overwhelming renewed sense of purpose at the sight before him... The memories he collected from spending so much time underground, amongst other tattered souls at the mercy of such a vicious disease had taught him more about himself than it ever allowed him to help others... but the sight before him was enough to make him think it was all worth it. He had never been more grateful for that experience than he was as he stood in the vast damp field starring out over the small group of terrified looking youth.

There were at least a dozen of them...

"So what do you think?" Daphne Greengrass was attempting to catch her breath as she crossed her arms and stood next to him. They both glanced out over the new recruits, all in equal fits of catching their breath, but some with playful grins on their face after their training.

Remus felt a smile growing over his features as he turned to the young girl, he caught the eye of Ginny Weasley smiling at him beside her.

"I think we've got ourselves a very capable group of werewolves thanks to you and Miss Parkinson. Well done..." His eyes scanned the field once more, nodding more to himself as he added. "...very well done..."

A/N: DUH DUH DUHHHHHHH... lemme know-lemme know people, your thoughts... I would love to hear them :)