Hermione pressed a hand to her forehead as she sank into the kitchen chair. It was done. Her parents were gone. In their place stood Wendell and Monica Wilkins, who were now on their way home to Australia after a short holiday in England. At least, that's what they would believe. She wondered again if she'd done the right thing, removing their memories like that. They may never forgive her for violating their trust so greatly. That was if she could undo the damage.
She wanted to believe that she could. Wanted to believe that someday, they'd be reunited again as a family. Tears pricked her eyes as she looked over her now empty home. She would have to leave soon, before nightfall. She'd arrive at the Burrow in the early evening, but the thought of the loving family there did nothing to cheer her.
For a moment, Hermione allowed herself to wallow. The hollowness she'd resisted for so long was creeping back into her heart. Hermione had pressed it down, determined to enjoy these last few weeks with her parents. But now that they were gone, her heart broke open all over again. For them. For herself. She'd always been a bit of an oddity, on the edges of social engagements. But never had she truly felt alone. Until now. No parents to comfort her. And she couldn't confide in her friends. She had to bear her burden alone.
She rose and went to her untouched cup of tea on the counter. She might as well enjoy the silence while she could. The Burrow, though lovely, was rarely quiet, with someone or other bustling about. She usually enjoyed the liveliness, but she realized now that she'd miss the quiet peacefulness of her home even more than usual. Now that she didn't have it to return to.
Just as her hand touched the cup, Hermione felt it. That sense of awareness, like when someone is watching you from across the room. She spun, wand drawn. There was no one there. She knew her wards hadn't broken, she'd have felt it. All the same, she checked the rooms, reinforced the wards. Perhaps it was her own guilt pricking at her. Making her more wary of betrayal. For hadn't she too betrayed Harry with her silence? She glanced at the clock. There was no time for a leisurely cup now. Heart sore, she gulped her now lukewarm tea. She didn't taste it before it was too late. That tangy flavour that most certainly was not her Earl Grey. She teetered, the cup fell from her hand as she reached for the table. The room swam before her and then she was falling but she never hit the ground.
Strong familiar arms cushioned her fall. And the last sight she saw was silver eyes. Then the world went black.
He had set up the tent and checked the wards twice and still Hermione slept. Draco couldn't focus on anything else. Only her. He looked at her furrowed brow, her tangled hair and his heart constricted. Just being near her the past few days had been both heaven and hell. He'd missed her.
His memories of their time together should have been enough. Having her, if even for a short while, was better than not having her at all. Those memories had soothed his tortured soul on more than one occasion. Because at least for a moment, this incredible witch had loved him.
It should have been enough. It wasn't.
He wasn't sure if she'd listen. He doubted she'd understand. He hadn't planned on any of this. Snape had said… well he had said he'd help him. And he did in the end. Just not in the way Draco had expected. And it certainly didn't help that Aunt Bellatrix had arrived with more than a few other Death Eaters. She was supposed to come alone that night. Would any of it matter? Draco doubted it.
He had planned to leave it all alone. To leave her hating him, so that she could go on and fulfill her part in this war. But the days turned into weeks, the Dark Lord was getting stronger, and Draco spent countless hours imagining what would happen to her. Seeing her face on the victims of those who opposed the Dark Lord. Knowing what they did to Muggles and Muggleborns, it wasn't hard to imagine. He was a mess. He couldn't control his emotions. And that was the most dire risk of all – the risk of exposure. He'd had to get out. And he knew he needed to go to her.
Hermione began to stir and he moved forward slightly. He had no reassuring words for her, and he realized that perhaps he should have spent this time figuring out what to say when she finally saw him again.
She opened her eyes slowly. It didn't take long for her to recall everything that had happened. She was just oh so tired and in a state of disbelief. How could she have been so foolish? Where was that constant vigilance that had been drilled into her? She blinked and saw Draco looming above her, watching with wary and apprehensive eyes that flickered with relief as she came awake. How he could sit there so calmly after everything he'd done, she had no idea. She wanted to throttle him. Only fear of discovery kept her still.
"What have you done?" she murmured to him. Her voice was hoarse from lack of use, but the anxiety still came through.
He moved as if startled by the question. Instead of answering her, he rose from his seat.
"You must be thirsty, let me get you some water." He moved away and Hermione watched him incredulously. She bolted right up in the bed she was in - no, a cot she realized. She quickly took in her surroundings and determined they were in a tent. Not the Manor then… what was he up to? Did it even matter. She couldn't... she wouldn't trust him again. She couldn't stay here, she needed to get away. His back was to her and she saw her chance. She tried to quietly untangle herself. If he heard her, he didn't show it. And she ran. Ran to the flap of the tent, and slammed into an invisible wall. Wards. He'd put up wards of course. To keep others out and evidently to keep her in. She was done being his pawn. She reached down only to suddenly realize that she didn't have her wand. He'd taken her wand. How dare he?
She whipped around to find him watching her. She flinched at the sight. A look of resigned disappointment had crossed his face, as if he expected her to flee but had hoped she wouldn't. Gods it hurt. It hurt to look at those silver eyes that had twinkled mischievously at her, at that grimly set mouth that had set her aflame. And she noticed. She noticed the lines that marred his face. She noticed that his complexion, usually pale, was now sallow. She noticed the circles under his eyes. And because she noticed, and because she didn't want to notice, she snapped.
"My wand, Draco." She growled at him. He didn't move. He stood there silent and somber and Hermione hated him. Oh how she wanted to hate him.
"I can't Hermione." It was too much. It was all too much. She didn't know how he could stand there calmly when everything inside her was boiling to the surface.
"You can't!" Hermione's voice bordered on hysterical. She advanced on him, pushed at his shoulders. "You will give me my wand Draco. Give it to me." She pushed him again. He didn't move and Hermione couldn't bear it. Every emotion she'd been supressing unleased itself on the source of her pain. She tore at him. Shoving, poking, ripping at his robes, trying to find that stolen piece of her. Whether it was her heart or her wand, it became unclear. All she knew was that she needed him to hurt him as he hurt her. So she punched and shoved and yelled and he still stood there. Taking every lash.
And when she stopped, she was still quaking. What had happened to her?
She backed away slowly, looking at the object of her destruction in mortification. His robes were torn, there were red marks on his forearms – all caused by her.
She had nowhere to run. Her eyes looked wildly around the tent, for any sort of escape. There was none. She backed herself into the edge of the tent and sank to the ground. She was trapped.
They hadn't said a word. Hermione had stared blindly ahead trying to absorb everything around her. Trying to think of a plan. But it was hard to think with him so close. Draco divided his time between looking over some papers on the table and stirring something on the stove – something she hated to admit smelled heavenly. When had she last eaten? It had been before she'd cast the memory charm on her parents… but she hadn't had much of an appetite before then.
He didn't try and talk to her. Didn't try and coerce her into talking to him. As if he knew her well enough to know she needed her space. That stung. The thought that he might know her at all when evidently she didn't know him. She didn't know him at all.
He still didn't say a word as he set the bowls of steaming soup on the table. Hers was on the far side, not close to his. She resented that as well.
She waited a full minute before approaching the table. After she watched him take his first mouthful, she rose. It wouldn't do to starve herself.
She sat and almost moaned at her first taste. She didn't know he could cook. She willed herself to eat slowly and tried to discretely look at at papers he'd been looking at with such attention.
"They're maps." He didn't look at her as he spoke.
"I can see that," Hermione snipped. What she couldn't see was where they were maps of. She let her spoon clatter into her empty bowl. "What is this Draco? What are you after?"
"Not now." He sighed as he rose. He moved to take her bowl and Hermione's hand shot out to stop him. She grasped his wrist and let go just as quickly. Skin to skin contact was not to be permitted apparently. Her brain might see him as a traitorous snake, but her body and her heart seemed to see him differently.
She steadied her breath and tried again. "People are expecting me Draco." It wasn't a lie. The Weasleys were expecting her. She'd sent the owl just after sending off her parents. They'd be terribly worried, with no idea of who had taken her, because they didn't know of her history with Draco. She bit at her bottom lip.
"No they're not." He turned away from her as he took the bowls to the sink. "I intercepted your owl. As far as – well I expect it was the Weasleys, though you didn't address them by name – are concerned, you have gone with your parents because you couldn't risk abandoning them."
Hermione blinked at him mutely, the rage returning. He continued with his back still to her. "They should really consider getting a new one you know. It was entirely too easy to cast a Confundus charm on that owl."
"Why?" she murmured. She still didn't understand. If this wasn't a trap, wasn't a way for Harry to come after, then what were Draco's intentions? "Why would you do such a thing?" He leaned against the small sink.
"So that they won't come looking for you." He answered simply. She'd had enough. She reached forward and snatched the maps from the far end of the table. He didn't move to stop her.
She shuffled through them. "Chile, Japan, Canada, New Zealand…" she shook her head in confusion.
"If you'd like, you can take your pick. I'm not too particular. As long as it's a far way from here." He'd come over to the table now, mistakenly thinking that she was coming around to his way of thinking. That she'd finally understood.
"You can't be serious." She dropped the maps and looked up at him in bewilderment. "You can't really plan on leaving the country? And you're entirely mistaken if you'd think I'd go with you!"
He leaned forward, his voice beseeching. "Hermione, we can't stay here. We have to leave, the sooner the better. He's getting stronger by the day—"
"And whose fault is that I wonder?" Hermione snapped. He ran a tired hand down his face.
"Yes, yes, fine. I'm responsible is that what you wanted to hear?" He shoved away from the table and began to pace agitatedly. "I let them in, I was the master orchestrator. Do you honestly think I'm proud of my actions? Every plan I had backfired spectacularly, but my back was against a wall. What choice did I have?" He looked at her, his eyes begging for just one hint of understanding.
"I gave you plenty of choices, Draco." She murmured softly, voice firm, arms crossed against her chest. He shook his head and grit his teeth.
"Oh yes, sending me to Snape—"
"Do not mention him to me!" she spat. Her hand slammed against the table in anger. Her stomach churned at her misguided faith in her former Professor. Draco continued on without noticing her outburst.
"He did offer help, but not the way you wanted it, I knew that. But by that point he knew. What should I have done then? He could have told the Dark Lord at any minute if I decided not to go along with the plan. And your plan." He'd managed to work his way to her and grasped at her hand. She tugged, but he held firm. "Your selfless and generous plan to help my mother. Yes, I could have gone with that. But what did it depend upon, Hermione? It depended on my getting home. And there was no way that was happening without… without…" He stuttered over his words, releasing her hand and moving away.
"Without killing Professor Dumbledore." Hermione finished for him. Her voice waivered a bit here. She could see some of his points, she really could. What she couldn't do was justify the cost the Wizarding World had to pay for it.
He turned and spoke, as if she were no longer there. "I replay that night so often in my dreams. And every time I wonder, how was I able to disarm the great Albus Dumbledore? I still don't understand it." His voice was hoarse. "And still, I couldn't do it. Because I'm not a murderer, Hermione. I'm not."
Hermione swallowed back her pain. She could feel her heart reaching out to him, wanting to find a way past all this. Because what he said was true. He hadn't killed Professor Dumbledore. But did that final act mean he could be forgiven for all the other horrible things?
"He's still dead." Hermione murmured. "He was the only person that Voldemort-" Draco flinched, "was afraid of. And now that he's gone, what chance does the Light side have? What chance does Harry have? He needed him."
They watched each other quietly for a moment, until Draco spoke. "Potter may actually win this. I think he has a fighting chance. But the risk is still too high…"
"You're not helping things are you?" Hermione cried. "He needed Dumbledore. He needs me!"
Draco closed his eyes. "Hermione, I can't just let you go back to that."
"If I don't help him, what chance has he to win then? It's for the greater good, Draco!"
"How is it you still don't understand?" he asked incredulously. "We discussed this from the very beginning - my motive has never been the greater good. Hell, it hasn't always even been my survival. It's been to protect those I love."
He looked at her pointedly and Hermione shook her head vehemently. "Don't. Just don't. Stop saying that - love, what you feel for me isn't love. You've used me, lied to me, misled me, and kidnapped me! That is not love Draco!"
"What is love then, Hermione, since you seem to have such a good grasp on the subject?" he countered, pushing himself away from the table again. "Is it wiping a person's memories away so that they don't even know you exist and sending them to a far off country, without their consent, to possibly never see them again?" Hermione sucked in a sharp breath.
"Don't you dare bring them into this." Her volume rose with each word. "It's not… it's not comparable!" Her voice quaked with rage. "They can't protect themselves! They will have a target on their backs because of me!"
"And you have a target on your back!" He snapped back. "I couldn't stand by and do nothing! I wanted to respect your decisions - I mean, I knew you might never forgive me after everything. But they did nothing to help you! What was I supposed to do then?"
"Who are you talking about?" Hermione was genuinely confused at this turn in the conversation.
"Your bloody Order," he growled menacingly. "I wanted to believe that someone would be looking out for you. That those people you call friends and comrades would have been here for you. But no-one was here, Hermione. I waited and I watched and you went through it all alone. Merlin, you were about to leave here all alone. Not even one person could be bothered to come collect you!"
She swallowed indignantly. "We each have a role to play Draco. And I understand that I am not the priority right now." Despite knowing this, his words stung just a little. She had insisted on traveling alone to the Burrow, but it was true that nobody had argued much to come and get her. After all, the Weasleys were busy with Bill and Fleur's wedding and the rest of the Order was focused on the goings on within the Ministry and keeping Harry safe.
"You're a priority to me!" He exploded. He took a breath and gave her a hard look. "You warned me once that people would die. Do you know how many?" His words were low and hard. "Do you know how many people died, the last time, before Potter's miraculous survival?"
Hermione stiffened. "Of course I do." And she did. Sort of. There were a number of deaths. It had been war. But she felt that Draco wasn't talking about the numbers.
"Molly Weasley's brothers died." He began pacing now, as if he couldn't keep still while this was still inside him. "McGonagall's brother. One of the Black boys. Numerous members of the Bones' family. And let's not talk about what happened to Longbottom's parents." He halted, grasped his hands on the table and looked squarely at her. "Even Potter's parents died before it all came to an end. And we all know now that it wasn't over. So many died then. So many are dying now. How can you expect to survive this? How can you expect me to let you take that risk?" Draco shook his head, as if the words were physically painful.
Hermione let out a shuddery breath. She knew the risks. She'd known the risks the entire time. "I've told you before, Draco, I've been a part of this for a long time. And it's not your choice to make."
"Somebody has to look out for you, Hermione." He propped his hip against the table, right next to her chair. So close she could almost feel him. She stiffened and he didn't move any closer. He didn't move away either. "Your family is gone, now that you sent them away. You're my wife. I have to look out for you – I need to look out for you."
Hermione's hand absently rose to the locket she still wore. She fiddled with it, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt. Did he not know? She'd burned her words… their contract. Their bond was gone.
He reached for the hand, reached for the locket. "We said those vows, we made an an oath. And still you carry them with you." His mouth tilted in almost a smile. Hermione shook slightly. Whether it was at the contact or at the memory, she was unsure. She backed away and hurt fleeted across his expression.. She unfastened the locket and held it, wondering, wondering why she couldn't find the words to tell him it was over. She silently placed the locket on the table and walked over to the get herself a drink. She could hear him moving. She heard him pick it up. Heard his steps coming toward her. Perhaps to try and convince her to take it back. Take him back. And then he stopped.
They were gone. He'd wanted to show her, for her to see what those words meant. He thumbed the empty locket, his face ashen.
"Where are your vows, Hermione?" His voice was hard and clipped. Hermione's heart squeezed a little and she felt that twinge of remorse that had been tugging at her since the day she turned those sacred words to ash. She couldn't look at him. Her heart couldn't take it. But her mind wouldn't let her forget. She reminded herself that he was Draco Malfoy. A boy she once loved, but who had thrown it all away the minute he had betrayed her and everything that she stood for.
She didn't look back to him. She was surprised at the strength of her voice as she told him. "I burned them. They don't mean anything now." If her hands shook as she said the words, he couldn't see them.
He was silent. Silent for what felt like an eternity.
"Our bond, it meant nothing?" His voice was empty. "Gone just like that." She heard the angry clatter of the locket being tossed onto the table. "Must not have been very strong in the first place." He left the tent.
A/N: So we're almost at the end! Thank you all for staying with this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!