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Draco took several calming breaths, feeling his heart thundering against his chest. He eyed Hermione incredulously, trying to make sense of the tale she had spun. How many minutes had passed since she had stopped talking, since he had required dead silence to understand? With Potter and Weasley standing in the background, both grimacing, with Hermione staring at him with that blank look in her eyes, destroying his conception of dark magic and its boundaries.

Its boundaries and what lay beyond.

"Are you…" Draco whispered, surprised he could even make a sound. "Are you sure?"

She nodded in response. "We've been hunting them for years."

"But," Draco stuttered. "Seven?"

"Technically six," Potter finally spoke up, his anger and frustration etched into his features. "Seven if you count Voldemort himself."

"So…" he started counting off in his head. "Dumbledore, that year…"

"The year you tried to kill him, you mean?" Potter asked, an eyebrow raised.

Draco wouldn't take the bait. "He was training you, like a mercenary, to destroy all the pieces of Voldemort's soul?"

Hermione nodded. "He did lessons with Harry, and Ron and I helped."

"Yes, Harry, Hermione and I," Weasley piped up, his angry eyes trained on the witch. "Not Malfoy. Dumbledore's probably rolling in his fucking grave."

"Ron," Hermione snapped, not even bothering to look over at the ginger. "I'm not going to explain it again. We need Draco. He's the only one who can help you."

"But why, 'Mione?" Potter asked, confusion and hurt mixed into his voice. "I know that… I know that you and Malfoy are together now."

"Officially?" Weasel asked angrily, turning between the two other members of his trio. "No one tells me shit."

"But this is a whole other level," Potter continued. "Even if you can't come along, it doesn't mean we need to include Malfoy."

"Yes, it does," Hermione said, her voice steady. "You two were getting nowhere on your own. Our number one priority here should be destroying the Horcruxes, so that we can finally end this war."

"If that's our number one priority," Potter started, nervously cleaning his glasses on his shirt. "Then why can't you come? What could possibly be more important than destroying the Horcruxes?"

She shook her head. "Not now. Soon."

"Hermione," Draco whispered. "I don't understand why you can't just tell us what Theo told you. Tell us where you're going. We can… I can help you."

She glanced over at him, her eyes betraying nothing. "You can help me by helping them. Draco, you know that your knowledge of Voldemort, of the inner circle, alongside your power is a lethal combination. It's the one thing we haven't had: access."

His own voice from earlier echoed in his head. Lots of ways to access secrets. All you need is proximity.

"I don't know bloody anything about… about Horcruxes!" Draco exclaimed. "It's not as if the Dark Lord sits you down at initiation and tells you in detail about how he split his soul into pieces."

"But I'm sure you know something, Draco," Hermione repeated. "Even if you don't know it yet. I believe it. I believe in you. And even though I can't go on this final mission, you can. And you will. There's no one else I would trust to take my spot."

"I can think of at least twenty other options," Potter muttered.

"You boys are just going to have to get over your schoolyard rivalry for the sake of the greater good," Hermione said, shooting him a quick glare.

"The Greater Good?" Weasel asked. "Who are you now? Dumbledore pre 1945?"

"You could've at least asked us, 'Mione," Potter said.

"You would've said no."

"Exactly."

"Look Harry," Hermione responded. "You trust me, don't you?"

"With my life," Potter replied, unflinchingly.

"And I trust him with yours."

"Hermione," Potter pleaded. "Why can't you come along? Why can't you do whatever secret quest you've discovered later? After the war?"

She shook her head. "Because, Harry. Unless I do it now, when the war ends, we will lose."

The three men were stricken silent.

"Hermione," Draco whispered. "What did Theo tell you?"

"I know you three trust me," she said, avoiding his eyes once again. "And so I need you to trust me now. For every time that I saved your lives, or did your homework, or kept you out of trouble. Every time I told one of you that I loved you or held you. I need you to think about all those little moments, and about what they were adding up to. This is the ultimate test of trust."

"'Mione," Potter whispered, guilt permeating his voice.

"I know what I'm doing," she said. "I'm more confident in this decision than I've been in anything I've ever done. I need to leave. You need to destroy the Horcruxes. You need to take Draco. And when I'm done, and when you're done and the Dark Lord can be killed, then I will meet you again"

"How do you know this?" Draco asked. "How can you… how can you possibly be so confident?"

A secret smile played at her lips. "Call it my birthright."

Whether it was magic that overtook them, enchanting them through her voice, or mere human persuasion, a sense of finality followed her words. Completion. Acceptance.

After a few seconds, Potter finally spoke.

"Alright."

"Harry, come on!" The Weasel spat out. "You can't be serious. Malfoy?"

But Potter's eyes were glued to Hermione's. "You're playing all your cards for this one, 'Mione."

She smiled again. "And I know it's a royal flush."

Potter closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Gods, Hermione. I hope you're right."

Hermione's eyes turned back to Draco, ignoring the Weasel's indignant muttering.

"You'll do this, won't you?" she asked, a bit of emotion peeking out from behind her carefully constructed Occlumency walls. "Please? Will you do this?"

Though Draco would rather be boiled alive in a vat of Draught of Living Death than work with Potter and Weasley, there would only ever be one answer when she was looking at him like that.

As if he could ever refuse her. Not ever. Not anymore.

"For you," he said, his gaze trying to break through the storm clouds in her eyes. "I'll do this for you."

A real smile appeared on her face. Not one filled with secret knowledge from millennium passed, but her smile. Hermione's genuine smile.

Fuck. What had he gotten himself into?

An awkward silence filled the air, as the Golden Trio looked around at each other. Weasel was shaking his head, his neck covered in red blotches, but he wasn't saying anything, which Draco guessed was as close to enthusiastic approval of the idea that they would get.

"So," Draco started, unsure what path is was setting off on. "Seven Horcruxes."

Potter shook his head. "Not anymore."

"Nabbed a couple, Potter?" Draco asked, going for jovial but achieving pained. "Good on 'ya."

The Chosen One rolled eyes. "Remember Tom Riddle's diary? Chamber of Secrets? Given to Ginny by your father?"

"You're fucking kidding."

"And that's how we learned Basilisk venom destroys Horcruxes," Potter replied.

"Wonderful that we have so many on hand, then."

"We actually do," Potter supplied. "Got some when we infiltrated Hogwarts a few years back."

"I hate you sometimes, Potter."

"And then there was Marvolo Gaunt's ring," Hermione continued.

"Who in the bloody fuck is Marvolo Gaunt?" Draco asked.

"Voldemort's maternal grandfather," Hermione replied. "Voldemort made his ancestral ring a Horcrux, until Dumbledore destroyed it."

"Dumbledore?" Draco asked.

"That's why his hand was cursed to smithereens when you tried to murder him," Weasley pointed out, glaring. "There was a curse on the ring."

Draco ignored him. "What else?"

"Salazar Slytherin's locket," Hermione said. "We destroyed that one when we pried it off Umbridge's dead body at the Ministry attack in early 1997."

"So that's three down," Draco said, counting off on his fingers. "What about the other three?"

"We know what they are," Hermione explained. "Just not where."

"Well then?" Draco asked. "Don't keep curious minds waiting."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Nagini, for one."

"The snake?" Draco asked, not being able to prevent the surprise in his voice this time around. "I always thought it was possessed."

"Then there's something of Ravenclaw's," Hermione explained. "Voldemort wanted one magical object from each Founder but, wasn't able to get the Sword of Gryffindor."

"Okay," Draco nodded, suddenly feeling the impossibility of the task in a way he hadn't when Hermione had first been explaining it. "So a mystery object of Ravenclaw's. What about Hufflepuff then?"

"It's a cup," Potter said. "That belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. Voldemort stole it from a descendent named Hepzibah, who he killed afterwards."

Draco stared at Potter for a moment, blinking quickly, questioning whether he had heard him right.

It couldn't be…

"Hufflepuff's cup," Draco said, his mouth suddenly very dry. "Have you ever seen it?"

"In a memory, years ago…"

"Describe it," Draco said, looking at Potter, heart pounding quicker with every passing moment. "What did it look like?"

The other man raised an eyebrow. "Like a chalice, I suppose. Gold, with handles, and a badger engraved on the side…"

Draco closed his eyes. "Merlin, help us."

"Got something you want to share with the class, Malfoy?"

"I know where your bloody Horcrux is," Draco muttered, opening his eyes and meeting the astonished gazes of the three Gryffindors. "It's being held in the Lestrange vault at Gringotts."

"Gringotts?" Weasley burst out. "He's been keeping the bloody thing at Gringotts?"

"I mean," Potter started, expression thoughtful. "It makes sense. The centre of magical wealth, seems right up Voldemort's alley. Besides, it's impossible to break into Gringotts. You'd be a fool to try."

"Better get that out of your mind quick, Potter," Draco muttered. "Because you're looking at the fools who will have to try."

"Are you certain, Draco?" Hermione asked, lips pursed. "How do you know?"

"Saw it," he replied. "My mother took me to the Lestrange vault to pick something up for Bellatrix after she broke out of Azkaban in our fifth year. Bellatrix couldn't bloody well saunter up the steps in the middle of Diagon Alley, now could she?"

Hermione nodded along. "Bellatrix and Narcissa are sisters."

Draco grimaced. "So we went to go grab something, just gold if I remember. And I saw it. Sitting on a ledge across the mountain of galleons. Seemed odd, out of place, you know? I guess that's why I remember…" he trailed off.

"Well brilliant!" Weasley said sarcastically. "Now we get to break into one of the most heavily guarded places on the planet. Walk in the park!"

"It's a starting point," Potter said, eyeing Draco with an expression that was not exactly trustful, but in the neighborhood. "It's the first real lead we've had in three years. Thanks, Malfoy."

"No problem, Potter," Draco said awkwardly, unsure if a thank-you was appropriate in this situation. But at his words, Hermione beamed, her Occlumency walls broken through.

When he looked again, he saw nothing but bricks.

"Then you three have a mission," Hermione said, nodding slowly, her gaze drifting between them all.

"And so do you," Draco said once her gaze landed on him.

She nodded, eyes revealing nothing. However, he felt her form tense.

"Potter, Weasley," Draco said, voice hesitant, eyes still on her. "If we've got to figure out how to bloody well rob Gringotts tomorrow, it might be a good idea to get a good night's sleep. It's almost one in the morning."

"Who are you, Malfoy? Our mother…" Weasley started but was quickly silenced by a sharp glare from Potter. The latter, understanding him perfectly, gave a nod, and ushered the still spluttering Weasley from the room.

Leaving them.

It was always them.

"Hermione," Draco whispered, reaching towards her. He took his hand in hers, and when she didn't immediately flinch back, he took it as an opening. "You can talk to me. You can tell me what Theo said."

She shook her head, eyes trained on the ground, avoiding his at all costs. "No, I really can't."

"But why?" Draco asked, shoving down annoyance and allowing a modicum of care to seep through. "I won't tell the bumbling duo, and I just want to keep you safe…"

"That's exactly it, Draco," Hermione responded, voice suddenly stilted, staccato. "What I'm doing… it won't… it just can't be safe. There's no way to account for everything. To figure out every variable. But I need to do it anyway. Some things are more important than my safety."

"Nothing is more important than your safety," Draco said harshly. She gave him a wry smile.

"And besides," she continued. "Me not telling you… it keeps you safe. Some secrets…"

"…need to remain buried, until they don't," Draco continued. "I understand that. But how… how could the knowledge endanger me?"

"This is where trust comes in," Hermione said. "This is where you need to trust me, to understand that I'm making the best decision I can with the information I have."

"But you don't need to make it alone," Draco snapped, frustrated, running his free hand through his hair. "That's what… bloody hell, Hermione. What's the point of having a magical lifetime soulmate if you won't tell me anything?"

A small chuckle escaped her lips, fighting hard against her walls. "Draco, I may be a Le Fay now, but I'm still Hermione Granger. You should know better."

"Hermione," he whispered, reaching forward to cup her cheek. "Look at me."

Those clouded eyes met his, impenetrable, unsolvable. Inaccessible.

"Why are you occluding?" he asked, quietly. "It's just me."

"You answered your own question," she replied, her voice stilted again. "I'm occluding because it's you. So much is riding on this. On my task. On my decision. And Draco, I want to tell you. I want to share this with you. But I can't. For the sake of everyone, gone and still here. I have the weight of the world on my shoulders."

"Let me help you, Atlas," he answered.

Something flickered in those green depths. "Greek mythology? Who would have thought?"

"I'm a man of many mysteries," he replied.

"But not this one," she repeated. "Draco, I love you. And when this is over, I promise you, I promise you on Harry, and Ron, and… Seamus, and all those that we have lost. At the end of this, I will find you. But until then, trust me enough to know that I have to do this."

"No one should have to save the world on their own," Draco replied.

She smiled. "Have you met Harry Potter?"

"Well, that tosser is a special case, we all know that."

Hermione chuckled, and finally squeezed his hand holding hers. "Just… trust me, even if you don't understand. Even if you don't agree."

"I don't understand," Draco retorted. "And I don't agree."

She chuckled. "I didn't expect you to. But I do expect you to respect it. Because I know you respect me."

Those words silenced him, leaving nothing more to be said. He opened his mouth and closed it promptly.

Signaling finality.

Hermione smiled at him and squeezed his hand once again. "I'm going to have to leave soon. As soon as possible."

Ice went through his veins. "Tomorrow?"

She nodded, eyes betraying nothing.

"And there's nothing I can say that will change your mind?"

She shook her head.

Trying to ignore the desperation spreading through his body, he leaned close to Hermione, until his lips were ghosting over hers.

"Then, Miss Le Fay," he murmured, ignoring the way his voice caught on her name. "If this is the last evening I'll have with you before you prance off to save the world, I have no interest in wasting a single second more arguing."

She didn't need to verbalize her agreement. Her lips acquiesced on her behalf.

Goodbyes are interesting events. They signal completion, endings. But what happens during a goodbye in which you would rather die than leave the other person?

They defy themselves. A goodbye without closure. A goodbye that fights against conclusions.

Draco pulled Hermione up into him, wrapping his arms around her body as if the strength in his bones alone could prevent her departure. His lips were relentless, bruising. As if he wished to imprint a part of himself on her soul.

They tumbled backwards, his hands catching her body as they fell onto the bed. The bed where this had all begun. Where they had first discovered the other, worshipping each other's skin as they experienced a fleeting moment of eternity, as the cosmos erupted underneath their hands.

The possibilities that underscored that first night were absent tonight.

They both knew exactly where they stood. And exactly what this moment signified.

Draco whispered those three words against her skin, hoping to imbed them in the hollow of her throat, the curve of her hip, the inside of her thigh. She murmured her understanding, her agreement.

She whispered those words back, her breath dancing across his skin.

And finally, Merlin almighty, finally, when he was on top of her, no separation between their bodies, energy and electricity running between them, setting them on fire, burning the world around them, he looked into her eyes and found that her walls had shattered, leaving nothing but bare, raw emotion.

He almost cried at the sight.

He couldn't look away. Her green irises became deep pools, drawing him in more and more as every second past. He didn't want to blink, didn't want to risk missing even a moment of her. A spinning kaleidoscope of pain, longing, desire, love – beautiful, all encompassing love.

They stayed that way longer than necessary – longer than they needed to reach their release, to stutter those words again and collapse into each other, falling from the highest peaks into each other's waiting arms.

And still, he kept his eyes on hers.

The second he blinked, she would be out of reach.

And though it was inevitable, forgive him for stalling as long as he could.

After all, he was a selfish man.

Before Draco opened his eyes, he knew Hermione was gone.

It wasn't the lack of weight in the bed, or the absence of her scent in his nose.

No, it was the overwhelming emptiness in his veins.

He opened his eyes reluctantly, glancing around the empty room, the morning sun shining through the small window.

Gone. Of course, she was.

Draco had thought this would happen. There would be no way for her to rebuild those walls after he had shattered them last night. She wouldn't be able to hide her thoughts from him, her plans, her knowledge, her secrets.

There was no other option than to leave.

Draco glanced over at where her head had laid just hours before. Where her hair had fanned across the pillow now lay a note.

He pushed himself onto his forearms and reached over, hands shaking. Across the parchment was her sprawling handwriting.

One final vow.

At the end of this. I'll find you there.

When Draco finally forced himself downstairs to the kitchen, he wasn't expecting the small crowd that he met.

Had Hermione's departure already spread around Headquarters? He wondered, as several pairs of eyes turned towards him. Potter and Weasley were already there, arguing with Lupin. Tonks stood behind her husband, rubbing his shoulder reflexively.

But those weren't the eyes that met his.

One set belonged to Blaise, a single eyebrow cocked, his gaze moving over Draco's disheveled appearance.

Another belonged to Fred, leaning against the back wall, obviously uninterested in whatever soup-de-jour Potter and Lupin were arguing about. The twin's gaze was measured, giving nothing away.

The final was a set of hazel eyes that Draco had known since his childhood. Sitting at the far end of the table, Theo glanced up at his childhood friend's entrance.

There was nothing measured about Theo's gaze. No, Draco recognized that expression immediately, having seen it in the mirror for years.

Guilt.

He was moving before he had thought out his plan. Ignoring the sudden uproar from the rest of the Order in the room, he grabbed Theo gruffly by the collar and slammed him against the opposite wall.

"What in the bloody fuck, Draco!"

Ignoring Blaise, he raised his wand and pressed it sharply under Theo's jaw.

Deafening silence filled the room.

Those hazel eyes met his once again, but there was no surprise in them.

"Now, Drake…"

"Shut up, Theo," Draco growled, shoving him against the wall harder, and slowly twisting his wand until it dug into skin.

"What did you say to Hermione?"

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