We are in the home stretch, friends. Fifteen more chapters, maximum.

I think it's about time this war really got going, don't you?

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Blaise had to practically force Draco up the stairs from the kitchen, the latter being quite reluctant to leave Hermione alone with Theo.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Theo with Hermione, quite the opposite, in fact. If there was anyone in the world that he would trust with Hermione's life, it was Theodore Nott.

What he didn't like was her learning the history of the Le Fays from Theo. Alone. She wasn't meant to be alone in this… that was his entire purpose, wasn't it? His role in this game? He was her Other, her partner, her companion. He was the one who had stayed up all those late nights researching, had fought tooth and nail to bring her back from the Death Eaters, twice (if you counted the time he had tricked her into it).

He scowled.

Blaise gave him a side-ways glance. "You know it's not that she doesn't want you involved."

"Then why doesn't she want me there?"

Blaise sighed, glancing at the portraits on the walls as they made their way up the stairs. "It's… it's her family, mate. Here she was, thrust into this role shrouded in mystery and legend, with no one who really knew."

"We knew, Blaise."

"And did we tell her anything?" Blaise retorted. "Not until we had to. Maybe she wants the opportunity to talk to a family member who hasn't tried to curse her or you or me recently and get some facts, for once. I mean, sure, we know tons more about the Le Fays and this whole Other business than we did three months ago, but there are these massive gaps in our understanding… in Hermione's understanding. Maybe give her the chance to discover who she is herself."

"I'm not stopping her," Draco muttered, glancing downwards.

Blaise chuckled. "As if you could refuse Hermione anything. Lord knows you haven't made her beg…"

Blaise had to duck to miss being clocked right there.

"Besides, according to Theo and this whole Sire Curse thing, the two of you will be joined at the hip very soon. Or, if not the hip…"

Blaise had to duck again.

"Draco," he chuckled, the laugh not quite reaching his eyes. "Come on. I know it's not incredibly funny…"

"It's not funny at all," Draco snarled. "A kid? We have to have a kid? We're twenty fucking years old…"

"Do you not want a family with Hermione?" Blaise prodded quietly, avoiding his eyes.

"Of course, I do," Draco snapped, the answer exiting his mouth before he even had the chance to consider. "One day. After the war. Once we know the world we're bringing a child into is safe. Not now. Not with Death Eaters and the Dark Lord hanging over our heads, and not just to break this damn connection."

"It's diabolical, really," Blaise continued. "Force you to continue the line to protect it? Blood magic is insane."

"We already knew that, Blaise."

"There's got to be a workaround," Blaise continued, his expression thoughtful. "Theo said the Sire's Curse isn't usually activated until later, until your thirties. He said it's being activated now because the line is in danger… so maybe to deactivate it…"

"We need to get the line out of danger," Draco concluded. "Get Hermione out of danger."

"End the war? Kill Voldemort?" Blaise asked, incredulous.

Draco shook his head. "Somehow I think it's more complicated than that. Blood magic is insane, as you pointed out so eloquently. It can't just be about getting Hermione out of danger. Sure, she's the representative of her bloodline, but there has to be more to it."

Blaise and Draco exchanged a look. The former hesitated for a moment and then spoke.

"She'll be back up any minute spilling over with new knowledge about her legacy and this whole sapphire business. Who knows, maybe Theodore Nott has been the key to the mystery all along."

"Do you know anything about the sapphire?" Draco asked, suddenly. The two men had reached the third-floor landing, and Draco stopped to face Blaise head on. "Genuinely. Have you ever heard anything about it? I mean, you've heard the legends…"

Blaise shook his head. "Not even a whisper. I knew about the Le Fays, the connection to Morganna, the mark… but this whole sapphire element? No clue. You?"

"Nothing," he answered. "I only knew what Voldemort told me. That she was a Le Fay, the last in Morganna's line, incredibly powerful, that the mark appeared on her 20th birthday when she became protector…"

Draco's voice trailed off as a memory flitted through his mind.

"Mate?" Blaise asked, curiously. "Where's your head at?"

"Protector," Draco whispered, as something occurred to him. "That's what Voldemort said she had become. With the mark, she became Protector."

"Protector of what?" Blaise questioned.

"The Dark Lord said the family line," Draco muttered, his brain spinning like the insides of a clock. "But he… I didn't believe him then. He hesitated."

"Protector of the family line," Blaise mused, the gears behind his eyes moving faster with every passing moment. "Protector… the bloodline must survive. Hermione had said she had heard it before."

"When?" Draco asked.

"When she saved your sorry arse from that burning building ten million years ago. She heard a voice in her head… the bloodline must survive."

"I think she's the Protector of the sapphire," Draco said quietly, thinking it over. "What did Nott Sr. say at the Manor? That to protect herself fully, she would need the sapphire."

"It's all connected," Blaise nodded slowly. "The bloodline, the mark on her wrist, that sapphire. Whatever it is, it's tied intrinsically to the Le Fay line."

"It must've been what Voldemort really wanted," Draco concluded. "This was never about revering Hermione, or returning her to the pureblood side…"

"Mate, it took you this long to realize that?"

"He wants the sapphire, whatever it is," Draco continued. "He needs Hermione to get it. Something about her being a Le Fay. He needs her to give it up, he can't just kill his way to it."

"Willingly," Blaise muttered. "It has to be given willingly."

The two men stared at each other for a moment. "So, what it is?" Blaise asked.

"And where?" Draco said. "Do you think Hermione knows…"

"Not a chance. But maybe…"

And for the second time that day, the two men stared at each other, and spoke in unison.

"Theo."

Blaise and Draco reached the door of the drawing room, where they could hear low voices murmuring on the other side. Blaise gave it a quick rap.

The door opened to reveal Tonks' concerned eyes. She had one hand on her stomach, as if her hand alone could protect the child growing within.

The image burned itself into Draco's subconscious. Protect the line by continuing it…

"Zabini? Malfoy?" she asked, worry evident in her voice. "Are you alright? Where's Hermione and Nott? I thought you were tending to him."

"We were," Blaise said, walking straight into the room with Draco on his tail. Beyond the doorway was Lupin, Fred, Potter, Kingsley, and the Weasel, seated around a table with notes scattered about.

"The Notts decided to have a family meeting, and we were promptly exiled."

"Hermione's alone with Nott?" Potter asked, his voice rising several octaves.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Relax, Chosen One. It's just Theo. He's neutral."

Potter narrowed his eyes. "His father tried to kill all of us less than two weeks ago."

"And tried to kill Theo less than a day ago," Blaise continued. "Or do you not remember the reason the whole lot of us rushed off to Scotland this afternoon?"

Potter scowled, and Lupin frowned.

"It doesn't make much sense," their old professor admitted. "Why would the Death Eaters suddenly decide that Theodore Nott is their target?"

"And Daph," Blaise interjected. "She was attacked as well."

"But not targeted," Lupin continued. "The Greengrasses are not important in the Death Eater hierarchy. If one of the two of them was the intended death today, it was Nott, not her."

Fred chuckled, until the glares of all those in the room shut him up.

"What?" he asked, defensively. "Nott not. It's funny."

Over six pairs of eyes rolled simultaneously.

"But why would they target Mr. Nott?" Kingsley asked, his low voice rumbling. "Mr. Malfoy is correct, Nott is neutral in this war. His own father led the battalion against him today. For what purpose? What benefit does killing young Mr. Nott give the Death Eaters?"

"It was a message," Draco said, having asked himself the same question that afternoon and come up with only one answer. "For Hermione. The Death Eaters can get to a Nott, no matter how safe they seemed. They were going to reach her, no matter where she hid. And they wouldn't stop at anyone or anything until they did."

There was a pregnant pause after his words.

"I fear you might be right, Mr. Malfoy," Kingsley replied.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Tonks frowned. "It has to be the Nott connection. I mean, Hermione is a Nott now."

"No she's not," Weasel snarled, hands clenched at his side, eyes downcast.

Fred chuckled again. "Not a Nott."

Weasel ignored his brother. "She's a Granger, or a Le Fay, or whatever the hell else. But she is not part of that… family. Not part of that system."

"Hmm?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. "Which system are you referring to, Weasley?"

If looks could burn, Draco would already be on fire.

"Your system," the other man hissed, his face turning a red to match his hair. "Of pureblood supremacy, and those dumb fucking balls, and the man of the house marrying off his daughters at fifteen for blood purity. Hermione Granger/Le Fay may be a direct descendant of the original witch, with blood purity that Voldemort would kill for, but she's not part of that world."

Draco blinked at the Weasel, contemplating his response for several seconds before he finally spoke.

"You're right, Weasley," he said, a sentence he was surprised didn't burn his throat on the way out. "Hermione isn't a part of that world. It's not like she ever could be. Not really. That isn't her place."

"And it's not Theo's either. Or Blaise's. Or mine. Not anymore. Not ever again."

He felt Blaise clap him on the back, a gesture of solidarity demonstrating more than words ever could.

"You may not like us," Draco continued, his words now addressed to everyone. "Or trust us. Or want us around. But know that that world isn't ours anymore. And with the lack of a place to return to, we'll fight tooth and nail to find a place in whatever new world we win."

"Slytherins and their ambition," Potter said emotionlessly.

Draco shrugged. "Think whatever you want, Potter. But we want to live in this world as much as you want to save it. That puts us on the same side, does it not? Theo included."

"We don't know anything about Theo," Fred pointed out. "You're telling me the bloke just went off to Scotland with Greengrass and that's the end of the story?"

Blaise and Draco nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."

Fred cocked an eyebrow. "Seems a bit… suspicious."

Blaise shook his head. "And you lot couldn't believe I was reading a book when you broke into my house."

Tonks smiled.

"Not everyone on this planet has chosen a side the way that you lot have," Blaise said. "Or the way the Death Eaters have. But that doesn't mean they're a danger to us. I've known Theo my entire life, Daph too. They may have grown up indoctrinated in the thick of it, but they are good people, who want nothing more than to live in peace. Sure, they don't have the battle record you all do, but why should that mean they don't want peace?"

"Theo's fine," Draco said, in a pleading tone he'd rather die than use in front of Ronald Weasley. "He's way better than Blaise or I."

"Way better than Draco," Blaise repeated.

Lupin cocked an eyebrow. "I'll have to talk to him, and Greengrass as well."

"And I guarantee to you on Salazar Slytherin's grave that you will find them no more threatening than you found Blaise when he got here," Draco said.

"I mean, I hope so," Blaise muttered. "At least I put up a fight."

Tonks sighed. "We've really turned this place into a snake pit."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Potter's face. "Sirius would have a fit."

"I'm sure Sirius is watching from wherever he ended up and cursing us with the passion of a thousand burning suns," Lupin said dryly.

Fred spoke up. "I'm sure Seamus has joined him."

An uncomfortable silence filled the ancestral house of Black.

"What are Nott and Hermione talking about anyway?" Fred asked, his face slightly paler than a few moments before. "It's not like they're going over favourite childhood memories down at Nott Manor."

Blaise and Draco glanced at each other for a moment before the former decided to speak.

"Theo might," Blaise started before hesitating slightly. "He might know something about the sapphire."

"The sapphire?" Lupin asked, voice suddenly incredulous. "The mystery item that no one seems to know a damn thing about?"

"Theo might," Blaise repeated.

Potter pursed his lips. "I don't know, Blaise. It's so… odd that we haven't heard about this stone, except from the mouth of Nott Sr… and Voldemort."

"Voldemort?" Draco asked, stricken. "When did he talk about the sapphire?"

"He talked to Hermione about it while she was captured," Potter said, glancing sideways at the Weasel.

Draco didn't know what to say. Voldemort had spoken to Hermione about the sapphire?

Voldemort had spoken to Hermione about the sapphire and she hadn't told him…

"What did Voldemort say?" Lupin asked Harry. A crease appeared between the former professor's eyebrows.

Apparently, Draco wasn't the only one out of the loop.

"He said that the Philosopher's Stone was child's play compared to the sapphire," Potter said quietly. "That he wanted it from Hermione but couldn't take it by force."

"Hermione has no bloody sapphire," Weasel grumbled.

"But she might have access to it," Blaise interjected. "Might be able to locate it, use it…"

"Use it?" Potter asked, raising an eyebrow. "We don't even know what it is."

"Well, Potter, a sapphire is a type of jewel stone…"

"Malfoy, just because I can't punch you doesn't mean I won't hurt you with words."

Draco scowled. "Give it your best shot, Potter."

"Boys," Lupin interjected. "This is getting us nowhere."

"Well," Blaise started. "We won't be able to get anywhere without Theo's help."

"How will Nott even know?" Tonks asked. "From what I know of the guy it's not like him and his father stayed up at night gossiping over family secrets, even if he's related to Hermione."

Draco looked over at his cousin. "Lots of ways to access secrets. All you need is proximity."

"Access is a hell of a drug," Blaise agreed.

"How much do you think he knows?" Lupin asked.

"More than all the rest of us combined," Draco said. "And hopefully now Hermione knows as well."

"Why'd you two get sent away?" Tonks asked, curious.

There was a brief hesitation.

"Nott's are notoriously independent," Blaise said smoothly. "Two of them in the same room? Us mere mortals stood no chance."

"How long have they been down there?" Potter asked, frowning.

Draco glanced towards the door. "Longer than I'd like."

Draco wasn't sure how much time passed, exactly. The conversation in the room droned on, as he paid less attention. Mission this, plan that. It all sounded repetitive.

At one point someone mentioned Finnigan's funeral, reminding Draco of the fact that that had been this very morning.

From a funeral to a battlefield. In a war they surely lived.

People left the room and returned. With the kitchen otherwise occupied, the drawing room had turned into the Headquarters of Headquarters. Lupin and Kinglsey argued over strategy, while Potter and Weasel muttered to themselves. Tonks and Fred chatted amicably, both a little paler than normal, their carefree tones a little darker.

Blaise and Draco just sat, waiting patiently for the Notts downstairs to make their way up.

And finally, as the clock struck midnight, their princess revealed herself.

The knock on the door was quiet, but Draco was waiting for it. He could sense her approach with every nerve ending in his body.

When Hermione poked her head into the drawing room, all the remaining people in the room looked over, eyes curious, incredulous, suspicious.

But Hermione… Draco stared at her shimmering green eyes, trying to read into them what had been discussed, what she had learned.

But where he Draco usually saw depth, he saw nothing. Walls, bricks built up behind her irises, denying him access.

She was Occluding, he realized with a start.

He didn't realize she even knew how…

"Draco," she said, her voice distant. Her cloudy eyes met his. "I need to talk to you."

He was standing before she had even finished the sentence.

Marching over to her, he searched her face desperately for a clue, even a hint of what she had discussed with his old friend.

"Hermione," he whispered, ignoring the way his voice echoed in the drawing room. "What did Theo tell you?"

It was as if she hadn't even heard him. Looking over his shoulder at the others in the room, she spoke again.

"Harry, Ron. I need you for this, too."

Draco heard chairs scraping behind him as Potter and the Weasel answered the call, but he couldn't take his eyes from her face. What was she not telling him…

He watched her shake her head, eyes on someone behind him. "Not right now, Blaise. Soon. But not now."

Blaise scoffed in the background. "Fucking cool kids club."

Draco sensed the arrival of the other men behind him.

"Hermione," Potter muttered. "What's going on?"

"And why do we have to talk about it with Malfoy?" Weasel demanded, not even attempting to quiet himself.

Hermione ignored him and turned on her heel. She began to walk up the stairs, not even checking to see if they were following her.

They would. Of course, they would.

Draco and Potter exchanged concerned looks, a look he never would have imagined sharing with the Chosen One, but without hesitation, they followed Hermione.

She led them up to the top floor, and into the small room in which Draco had been imprisoned when he first arrived.

As they all shuffled in, she raised her hand and closed, locked, and silenced the room, not even bothering to use her wand.

Draco tried to meet her eyes, but they blocked him again. Opaque clouds in a rainstorm, he could never see the mountains on the other side.

"We all need to talk," she said, her voice steady, emotionless, revealing nothing.

Potter frowned, leaning against the locked door. "Hermione, what on earth is going on? What did Nott say to you?"

"Where is Theo?" Draco asked quietly.

She didn't even look at him as she answered.

"Theo went to bed. As for our conversation, that's between us. For now."

"Hermione," Draco murmured. Her eyes finally met his, and he swore he saw her walls crack.

When he blinked again, they were solid.

"Soon," she said, repeating what she had told Blaise. "Not now. Soon."

"So if you aren't going to tell us what Nott told you, what's this about, then?" Weasel said, barely concealed annoyance simmering beneath his voice.

There was a potent silence before Hermione, as she was considering her words. As if they had life or death consequences.

And they probably did.

"We are going to win this war," Hermione said finally, her voice as expressionless as before, her gaze blank.

Potter raised an eyebrow, incredulity obvious on his face. "Hermione, what on earth…"

"No, Harry," she said, her voice silencing his in two words. The Chosen One trailed off. Hermione glanced at all of them. "I can't… I won't tell you how I know that. But I do. And I need you to trust me. I need you all to trust me with what I'm about to say."

Chills ran down Draco's spine. "Hermione…"

"We are going to win this war," she repeated, as if he hadn't even spoke. "I'm more certain of that than I've ever been. But I can't tell you why. And I need you all to let that be."

"No, Hermione, please…"

"Not yet, Harry," Hermione said. "You know as well as I do that some secrets need to remain buried, until they don't. This is one of them."

"So what's the point of this, then?" Weasley repeated, his annoyance dominated his tones. "Hermione, you look a million miles away. What's going on?"

There was a pause, as Draco felt Hermione's heartbeat increase as his own matched.

He knew what she was about to say before she spoke.

"I'm leaving," she said, suddenly. "I need to do something. And I need to do it alone."

The uproar was instantaneous. Potter and Weasley broke into angry hysterics, swearing, demanding she explained herself.

But Draco went numb. Cold blood in his veins, gooseflesh across his skin. Eyes trained on hers, unable to breathe. Not understanding, not comprehending…

I need to do it alone.

"Hermione," he whispered, begging her to hear him above Potter and Weasley's ranting. "Is this about the sapphire?"

Her eyes met his again. Brick walls.

"Soon. Not now."

She was inaccessible.

"What do you expect us to do, Hermione?" Potter demanded, his voice sharp, his eyes seething. "Let you get go? We rescued you a week ago…"

"No one knows where I'm going," Hermione said. "No one in the last thousand years has that knowledge. I'll be safe."

"And what about us?" Weasley spluttered. "Are we supposed to just wait around for you to get back from your mystery quest?'

She shook her head. "I would never ask that of any of you."

"Then what are you asking, Hermione?" Draco whispered, not even trying to hide the fear and upset in his voice. "If we're not waiting around for you, what are we doing?"

"We're going to win this war," Hermione repeated, her eyes downcast suddenly, as if she knew that if she looked him in the eye, she would crack. "To do that, we need two things done. The first is for me to leave. For me to… I'll come back, I promise. And when I do, we'll be halfway there."

Her eyes glanced up to Potter. "But there's one more thing that needs to be done. And I need all three of you to do it."

Potter went white. "Hermione, you can't possibly mean…"

"You need him," she said, glancing between Potter and Weasley. "He knows things you don't, he has power you don't have access to. I can't help anymore, but Draco can. He will. He'll get you farther than I ever could."

Weasley blinked in realization. "Hermione, please tell me you're fucking kidding."

She shook her head. "We're going to win this war. Some secrets need to remain buried, until they don't. This is one of them."

"Gods, Hermione, please …"

She ignored Potter and turned back to him. Those storm clouds were back.

"Draco," she started, her voice emotionless.

"Hermione," he whispered, leaning forward. "What is going on?"

Ignoring the indignant remarks of both Potter and Weasley, she looked him dead on, and spoke.

"Draco, what do you know about Horcruxes?"

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