Thank you all for waiting for this chapter update! I am really excited to finally get this to you. Sending all my love and thanks to Helene and Noodar for enduring THREE re-writes/re-works of this chapter to make it just right. Love you both and thank you SO much for your help!

TW: Description of violence and gore in this chapter. Please scroll to the very end of this chapter for a more specific trigger warning, if you would like.

Chapter Fifteen: Caught

Hermione snatched her hand back from Draco's bare chest at the sight of Lev Zograf in the doorway.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Draco said, stepping in front of Hermione.

Lev's eyes flickered to Draco's chest, and he smirked as he leaned against the doorframe. "So sorry for intruding," he said. "Come on, did you really think you could slip away vithout anyone noticing? I thought I'd come see how things were going." He held his smirk.

Draco seethed in front of her as he buttoned up his shirt. She rolled her eyes at how much Draco hated this man. Sure, Lev had been a bit flirty, but he was really more playful than anything else. And she had gathered that he was on their side, though she wasn't sure why or how. This was the perfect time to find out.

"Are we to believe that's the only reason you followed us out here?" Hermione asked, stepping out from behind the shield of Draco's body.

"Bright vhitch you are," Lev said with a wink. "I came to finally force you to hear me out about the opportunity I mentioned earlier."

"We don't want to hear anything from you," Draco clipped. He grasped Hermione's hand and tried to pull her along towards the door.

Lev tisked. "You're not even going to ask her what she vants?"

Hermione felt Draco go still.

"Ah, didn't think of that, did you?" The auburn-haired man said. God, he really didn't care to keep his limbs.

Draco stepped forward, but Hermione tugged him back. She looked up at him and gave a slight grimace. "I do want to know what's going on."

His shoulders tensed as he gave a sharp nod.

"Great," Lev said. "Love the communication. Well, it's too much to explain everything right now, but I'm vorking with the Order of the Phoenix." He spoke so casually for what he was saying. "I've been friends vith Viktor Krum for years. A few veeks ago, a girl named Angelina contacted him about meeting for dinner to discuss his Quidditch career. Vhen they met, she slipped Veritaserum in his drink and made him spill everything about vhich side of the var he vas on-"

"Angelina Johnson?" Hermione asked. What the bloody hell was the Order doing?

"Yes, I think that's her. Vell, vhen she learned that Viktor hated Voldemort, she recruited him to vork vith the Order. There's a small team here today just scoping things out. If you vant to leave, I can help you get out vith them quietly. You just say the vord." Lev stepped a foot closer.

Her heart raced. "Who's here?" she asked, moving closer to him.

"It's mainly the Bulgarian crew," he said.

"And you're part of that?" The questions whirled through her mind so much that she didn't even wait for him to respond. "Why did you get involved?"

"It's a long story-"

"Are you in contact with Minerva McGonagall? Can we reach her-"

"There's no time," Lev said. "If ve go, ve go now."

Hermione went still. She had to decide just like that?

Draco laced his fingers with hers, using his free hand to gently nudge her chin, having her look at him. The rawness emulated from his demeanor. "If you want to go, then go," he said. His eyes were draining of emotion by the second; building his wall. "I won't stop you. And I won't blame you."

What? Her mind whirled with panic. He would let her leave, despite knowing what would happen to his mother? "I-" she started. She held his gaze as her fingers went numb, wishing she'd learned any amount of Legilimency to read his thoughts. But she couldn't read anything in his steely irises. She couldn't leave him behind. She wouldn't. "I can't-" she tried.

But reason battled with her heart on both sides. She knew she should want to take the opportunity she had to return to the Order. She had dreamt of being back with them; back with Ron and Luna and Ginny; back planning and strategizing with the people who were actively fighting this war. But by staying, she was protecting Hagrid. And somehow, she cared that she was protecting Narcissa, too. If only because by doing so, she was protecting Draco.

"Hermione, really. If ve move quickly-" Lev tried.

"I can't," she said. "Not right now, at least. We have to find Hagrid and-"

"Vhat?" Lev interjected.

Draco continued, ignoring him completely. "I will find them tonight. I'll find them and get them out."

"How? We have no idea where they are." She ignored Lev then just as much as Draco had. "You and I both know you would barely make it past the gates of the Manor if you showed up without me. Everyone would know something was wrong and you would be to blame."

"I can come up with something," he said. "I'll have at least an hour after you leave before I will need to report back to the Manor. He can cover for me with his family," he gestured towards Lev with a nod of his head.

Stop. Just stop. She wanted to yell the words at him. Instead, she sucked in a long breath. "It wouldn't matter what story you came up with and you know that. You would be tortured immediately. Or worse. I couldn't leave knowing that you would be in danger like that-"

"You may not get another opportunity like this. I will find Hagrid and my mother, and I will get all of us out-"

"No." She shook her head.

His expression was carved in resolution. "Hermione," he whispered to her. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," she said firmly. Frustration filled her senses, but she shook it off and turned pointedly to Lev. "Thank you for the offer, but I can't go. Not tonight."

Lev nodded.

"I do need you to get a message to the Order. Tell them Rubeus Hagrid is alive and is being held captive, and that as long as I don't know where he is or how to get to him, I won't leave." Hermione wrapped an arm around herself lightly; unconsciously. "But, please, Lev," she said, stepping closer to him. "Do not tell anyone about Draco and I." The admission that there was a them rolled off her tongue, as odd as it may have been. "Or about his true alliances. Please. It's too risky."

"Of course," Lev said, shrugging. "I vill try to update you as much as I can, but communicating about this is dangerous. Ve'll have to be careful."

She nodded.

"And, Hermione." Lev looked over her shoulder at Draco for a long moment before stepping closer to her and placing a hand on her arm. He leaned in, stopping just inches from her ear. "Ron vill be glad to know you're alright."

Her chest caved in at the sentiment. She closed her eyes. So close. She had been so close to her best friend, yet so far away. How could she let a chance to be free and to see her friends and fellow fighters slip through her fingers? When she opened her eyes again, Draco was in front of her and Lev was gone. She had chosen to stay with him, and at the sight of his clenched expression and the small bob of his throat he tried to hide, she knew she'd made the right choice.

"You had the chance to get back to him," he said, his voice tight. "As much as I dislike that man, we can probably still catch him," he gestured towards the door.

"No. I want to stay."

They stood there in silence for long moments, surrounded by the faint, distant sound of Bulgarian music and a cheering crowd. Hermione needed the time to process, however brief. She couldn't understand how Draco had gone from apathy and acceptance the night before to full support of upending the whole arrangement only hours later.

"You made it clear last night that you weren't wanting to fight," she finally said, breaching the quiet between them. "Yet if I were to leave with the Order, you wouldn't have an option. Why let me go?"

Draco huffed an incredulous laugh and leaned back against the nearest wall. "I wasn't letting you go. I was just making sure you knew that I would figure it out, no matter what you chose." He ran a hand over his face and through his hair.

Hermione's stomach knotted, and fires of desire burned through her abdomen. "I didn't leave when I had your wand that night in Paris." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I know," he breathed back.

"And I'm not going to leave you now." She let her feet glide her closer to him. He didn't move from the wall; just shifted his weight to his left shoulder as she approached and leaned against it, too, facing him. The brick was cold against her, even through the fabric of her top. With every second that her gaze met his, their connection deepened and his eyes darkened, and the warmth between them dispelled the cold of the room.

Draco slipped his hand into hers and laced their fingers together once again. God. His eyes were darker than ever before. She could almost see the attraction dancing in his gaze. The fires that burned within her continued. Her free hand slid up his chest and around his neck until she was pulling herself up on her tip-toes to reach her lips to his. The soft hesitation was brief. His free arm wrapped around her waist in a tight embrace as he pressed her to him. As they kissed, his tongue kept in perfect time with an unknown beat, telling a captivating story with the cadence.

Her fingers tingled, and she was suddenly taken back to the moment she first held her wand in Ollivander's shop. There was fire and light within her, just as there had been all those years ago. A sweet hum escaped her, and he echoed the sound, though his was deeper. A strong hand slipped under her dress and moved with determined desire around her thigh.

Her breath hitched at the intimate touch. She leaned into him further, but the distant sound of cheering at the end of a song pulled her back into reality. "We should head back," she said quietly.

He nodded against her head and pushed off the wall. The energy between them lingered as they held hands and left the room. Along the path, Hermione's heart raced as they walked. She had chosen to stay with him. She curled her fingers into his more.

"I knew it." Draco said.

She looked at him curiously.

"That something was off, I mean. I saw Oliver Wood in the front row earlier." He kept his voice low.

Oliver. Fear bubbled within her. Oliver Wood was there, currently surrounded by thousands of people who would love to see him dead, if they knew who he was and what he was doing. Who else was in the crowd? Which of her friends were out there working with the Bulgarian team, risking their lives just to scope things out? What was their plan? The speed of her heartbeat rose with her already quickening breaths.

When she didn't respond, he gripped her hand tighter. "It's alright," he said softly. "They've gone undetected so far, and if they're just here to check on things, we needn't worry about any bloodshed or battling today."

She still couldn't summon a response.

Draco stopped before leading her through the door they had used to exit the rally. He glanced around before brushing her cheek with his hand. "Do you need anything before we go back in?"

That brought her out of her abstraction. He was so sweet and considerate. She smiled. "No, I'm okay." She lifted herself up on her tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Let's go."

In the stadium, the celebration raged on. Hermione hadn't registered what was happening after Bellatrix had stood next to her during the speeches. Being back inside, she took in her surroundings. Countless people filled the stadium. Thankfully, seemingly nobody noticed their absence. She hoped it was only Lev.

She scanned the crowd, trying to find at least one familiar face. For an hour, as she followed Draco back to the side of the stage, as he mingled with various people, and as the music carried on, she searched for Oliver Wood. Draco interrupted her thoughts time and time again to introduce her to several people she couldn't care less about. Each face that stood before her wasn't the one she was looking for. It wasn't as if she would do anything if she saw him, but the very thought that someone she knew was there made her stomach flutter with some strange mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

At the end of the final song, Draco wrapped an arm around her and pulled her towards the front of the stage. It was an effort to keep her head from whipping around in all directions at the chance of a better look into the crowd, but she maintained her composure. Beside her, Draco spoke smoothly into the microphone, thanking the band and the crowd for coming. At her cue, Hermione waved to the thousands of brainwashed fools and smiled for Rita Skeeter's photographer, Bozo, and a slew of other wizarazzi as they flashed their cameras. Draco led the way to the Ambassador and his wife at the other side of the stage before they, too, addressed the crowd. Lev stood behind them, staying out of the way. Hermione thanked the Zografs again for hosting - just as Draco did before her - and summoned her best words of gratitude before bidding them farewell.

She grasped Draco's hand firmly as he led the way out through the back of the stage, wishing they had another night together away from the Manor. She wasn't ready to go back yet.

"I have an idea," he said, leaning down and whispering the words into her ear.

Her stomach fluttered again, this time with much better anticipation. "Oh, yeah?" she said, a hint of a smile in her voice. "What is it?"

They continued along the grass, the thousands of people in the stadium still filing out, far behind them.

"You'll see," he said. He walked with swift purpose past the guards at the entrance gate and along the path to the Apparition point.

Hermione's mind was still racing through what had happened at the rally when Draco spun on the spot with her close to his side.

They landed at the edge of a wooded area, twenty metres from where large black- and red-covered stands stood tall surrounding a field. They were on the outskirts of the Durmstrang Quidditch pitch, likely at the closest possible Apparition point beyond the grounds.

"Don't we need to get back?" she asked, walking closer to the field, leaving him behind.

"I think we have a few minutes to spare."

When she turned back to him, his hand was outstretched, a silver snitch hovering above his palm.

"I keep one with me at all times," he said, letting it flutter higher and soar over to her.

She caught it in the air and opened her hand to let it hover above her palm. It was shiny, and etched in the middle was a beautifully scripted M. "Hmm. This looks just like the one I have." She hid a smile.

"What?" he said, confusion flashing over his expression.

"Yeah, I found one in the forest outside the château." She smirked at him. "I guess I'll add this one to my collection."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "No, you won't," he said, lifting his hand to summon the snitch.

She grasped it again before it could fly away.

"Give it back," he said through a hidden laugh.

She took off running behind the base of the nearby stands. "Make me," she called out.

She could hear his footsteps behind her as she let her legs carry her off. She turned left, rounding the corner. The stiff grass crunched beneath her shoes. Left again. To her right was the vast field. She kept her feet going, taking her along the side of the stands to the next base paces away. The crunches from Draco's boots continued behind her. A rush of excitement swirled through her, and her heartbeat pounded even more. Left again, then right. She was on the other side of the second set of stands now, unaware of how far Draco was behind her. Right again.

Her breathing was heavy, and she was trying to keep herself from slowing as she turned another right. She was halted in her steps when a set of strong hands gripped her sides. She stifled a scream as she was swung around in one large circle and held closely to a panting Draco with her back to his chest. She laughed and clenched the hand that held onto the snitch tightly as her legs still dangled in the air. Lowering her to the ground, he held onto her with his right arm as his left reached around her chest to try to pry her fingers apart.

His mouth was only inches from her ear. "Give up?" he breathed, the heat sending a shiver down her spine.

"You wish," she said, leaning her lips up towards his.

She had to think fast. With his arm around her chest, his left side was open. She threw the snitch up and ducked under his left elbow, jumping up to catch the snitch before darting off again to the right. He appeared in front of her not a second later and caught her in his arms as she fell into him. They both tumbled to the ground and rolled twice, laughing the whole way down. The snitch rolled out of her fingers along the grass, then fluttered up and carried itself over into Draco's waiting palm.

"Nice try," he said through heavy breathing. He was on top of her, his legs straddling her hips.

All she could do was smile up at him. With everything going on, she was thankful to just…play. He rolled off and settled on the grass beside her, letting the snitch hover above the ground near him. They laid there together, panting and breathing. In the distance, the noise from the dwindling crowd continued to fade. The sky above was blue and calm; wispy clouds passed slowly by.

The backs of gentle fingers grazed hers. Hermione looked to Draco. "Why did you bring us down here?" she asked, still calming her panting.

His gaze was focused on her. "I wanted another moment alone with you. I don't know how many of these we will get."

She nodded and lifted the corners of her lips. The light breeze sent strands of her curly hair across her face. Draco reached up and slid them out of her eyes.

"Beautiful," he said, his voice dropping an octave. The word flowed like the wind that whispered across her skin. She took a sharp breath and it crept its way through her, deep down until it found her soul.

She let her eyes close as she curled her fingers around his. Each breath she took was slow; savoured. Any lingering guilt she had left within her for actually liking Draco disappeared. The night before, she had wondered what she was doing telling him she wanted him; thinking that he was a convenient way to pass the time; the easiest way to get through this. But no, that wasn't all it was. He was sweet and kind and more than anything she had thought he was. He was beautiful, his heart and mind as delicate, yet strong, as silence. It wasn't that she wanted him because he was there, but because it was him.

Hermione couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. This moment's bliss was a stark contrast to the feelings of the past few hours. She didn't want to let it go just yet. She swiftly rolled to her stomach and leaned her head into Draco. His grey eyes flickered to her chest, and she raised an eyebrow at him to signal that he'd been caught. He rolled his eyes at her, and when she laughed, the sweet sound of happiness also escaped his lips. It was a soft sound unlike any she'd heard from him before, and it sent flutters through her stomach. God, he was so pure. Though, not in the sense he had thought for so long.

She inclined her lips closer to him and waited for him to close the distance. When he did, she pulled back quickly and murmured an Accio, holding out her hand over his body to summon the silver snitch he had dropped. It flew into her palm, and within seconds, she had lifted herself off the ground, laughing as she ran off around the stands again. His footsteps hit the ground behind her. With every sound, her heart raced. Each movement she made forward…around a corner…around another…made the anticipation of him catching her once more grow. She was a kid again, running through the fields by her childhood home.

She took a right around the base of a third tower of stands.

"Come on, 'Mione," Draco said, panting and amused. "You can just keep it," he said. "Add it to your collection."

Another right.

"Give up that easy?" she teased over her shoulder.

Right again.

It was hard to hear the running steps behind her over her heavy breathing. She tried not to slow, but a cramp was growing in her side. "We can stop," she called out. "But just know that you gave up first." Her voice was dry and strained with a playful undertone. She was already slowing down.

One more right.

She smacked into a solid figure and gasped, "Malfoy!" Her eyes snapped shut and she clutched at her chest. Fuck. Her brain caught up with her, and she let out another huff of breath. The person who stood before her in smooth black robes was taller and much more stoic than Draco. His long, coarse blonde hair barely moved in the breeze.

"Lucius," she said when she realized it was him. She hadn't meant to say his name, but a whirl of surprise and panic had taken over her senses. Her stomach flipped with fear.

"Fun's over," Lucius said, more clipped than ever before. He snatched her elbow in one quick, terrifying movement, and detained her against him, her back to his chest. His left arm wrapped around her body, his hand locking her arm against her ribs.

She shut her eyes, willing herself to hold back the angry tears that threatened to break free.

A sharp inhale of breath sounded before her. "Father," Draco breathed.

"Son," Lucius hissed. "Enjoying the rally, I see."

Hermione's eyes shot open and locked with Draco's. His mental shields were up, and only a sliver of the silver in his eyes flashed with fear.

"Over and over again, I have told you exactly what is expected of you, and yet you continue to defy me. With poor choices come consequences. You know that, Draco."

Pain shot through Hermione's left arm at the tight hold he had on her.

"Please-" Draco tried, his features as clenched as Lucius's fingers.

She had to get out. She squirmed in his grip and shoved her free hand up towards Lucius's jawline above her head, but he caught it with his right hand and twisted. She screamed, and her knees buckled. A pain unlike any she had experienced since the night at the Manor under Bellatrix's knife seared through her wrist and up her arm. A deep voice released something muffled in the near distance, and before she could scream again, there was a pull behind her navel. She was thrust into darkness.

The Manor was haloed in a sunny glow beyond the entrance gates, but Hermione couldn't enjoy the view when she landed on the gravel. She hurled, the contents of her stomach emptying on the ground before her. Her eyes burned as much as her throat.

Lucius threw her down beside the mess of sick and called for Lottie.

A panicky, guttural sound escaped Hermione as she instinctively shot her hands out in front of her to catch herself and was hit with an excruciating pain at the impact of her already broken, bleeding wrist with the tiny rocks. A crack of Apparition and a squeal of horror announced Lottie's arrival at the scene.

"Clean up," Lucius snarled, and he Disapparated.

"Miss!" the elf cried.

Tiny arms wrapped around her, trying to pull her up off the floor. The vomit that covered the ground was cleared with the wave of the elf's hand, and the churning in her stomach was tugged at as she was enveloped in darkness again. She landed on her knees on the floor of her bedroom in the Manor, stumbling over herself, though Lottie tried to keep a grip on her. Her hand shot to the other side of her mangled forearm.

Lottie helped her fold into a better sitting position. "Hold on," she said, her voice a high, soft quiver. The elf disappeared, and Hermione was alone.

She forced herself to assess the damage of her wrist. Red covered her hand and smeared down her forearm. A gasp escaped her lips. Fuck. She had only felt this level of physical pain once before, nearly in the same spot as now. Hermione willed herself to get to her feet. She moved with speed; purpose. In a matter of seconds, she was up and across the room, carefully cradling her arm as she made her way to the washroom sink. She knew she had to rinse the wounds quickly to avoid infection and stop the bleeding. She had prepared herself for worst case scenarios when on the run with Harry and Ron. She knew every makeshift way to address common injuries both Muggle and magic.

As the water ran over her wrist, she sucked air in through her teeth at the burning sensation and ignored the tears that fell from her eyes. With a broken wrist, she knew she shouldn't move it at all, so she paid careful attention to the way she rotated her arm under the water. The swirl of bright red water slowly ran clear, and she was thankful to see that the bone didn't pierce her skin despite it sticking out in a way it was never meant to. Little lines of pink, raw skin covered her forearms and hands. The bleeding from the jagged gravel wounds had stopped, but the cuts stung. Hermione didn't allow herself to focus on the pain.

She instead searched the small mirror cabinet above the sink for anything that could be used as antiseptic, holding her broken wrist in place in the air. There was nothing appropriate to use; just Piquant Toothpaste and a toothbrush. She'd have to skip it for now and hope Lottie would return soon. She took a clean towel from the nearby rack on the wall and ground her teeth together as she wrapped it around her shoulder and arm to position it into a makeshift sling. She leaned back against the washroom door, her face cold and wet with tear streaks.

She hoped she wouldn't be locked in the room again, unaware of Draco's well-being for weeks. How had Lucius known where they were? Did Voldemort know? The marriage contract stated that they must not copulate. There wasn't anything in there about having a relationship… They hadn't technically violated it at all. She would use that in their defence.

She huffed a bitter laugh thinking about trying to reason with Draco's father or the Master of Death.

Distracting herself was her only option as she awaited the elf's return, hopefully with healing potions. Trying to ignore the sharp pain in her wrist, she kept her arm steady in the towel sling as she one-handedly brushed her teeth, then walked over to the armchair by the window.

The grounds were calm under the blue midday sky. Just beyond the nearest perfectly trimmed hedge were three small moving figures. Hermione fixed her gaze on the creatures, realizing as they bobbed their way into better view that they were all-white peacocks. She smiled to herself, recalling how much Draco hated the birds. To the left, there was no sign from Draco's balcony that he had returned to his room within.

Her healthy hand found its way into her pocket and touched the warm ball of metal, just to see if it was still there. She had shoved it in her pocket as she rounded a corner at some point in her chase with Draco. She dug her hand in further and clutched the snitch, lifting it as she stood and made her way to the bed. Climbing under the covers was a challenge; one that forced too much movement for her wrist and ultimately left her settling in with fresh tears streaming down her face. She adjusted her body so she could tuck the snitch behind her, under the pillow where she kept the first one. Shifting her gaze outside again, she surveyed Draco's balony. Dark. Empty.

Despite the light of the sun flooding the room, Hermione shut her eyes and willed her body to succumb to sleep. She was exhausted; her mind was clouded with pain and worry, and she couldn't do anything about it. She just had to wait. Until Lottie returned. Until she could ensure Draco was okay. Until she knew what damage had been done.

The worst of it was over for now.

A sudden rustle of papers startled Hermione. She whipped her head around to the sound, confused, as she hadn't heard anyone enter the room. Lottie still hadn't returned. When she lifted herself, sitting upright in the bed, she caught a glimpse of a flattened newspaper sliding across the floor through the crack under the door. Hermione's wrist was numb. She carefully stumbled out of bed and crossed the room in three quick strides. It was a Daily Prophet. Her heart raced at the sight, fear and anticipation bubbling within her at what she was about to read. She squeezed her eyes shut as she snatched the paper from the ground with her good hand and steadied a breath before opening them again. Those damned bold, black letters sent the air right out of her.

DARK WITCH KILLED IN ASHFORD STANDOFF

A member of the terrorist group that calls themselves the Order of the Phoenix was killed this morning in an alley in the heart of Ashford, reports Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent.

The burning behind Hermione's eyes stung, her fingers clenched the paper, and a hollowness filled her stomach. She forced herself to keep reading, torn between the need to know and the desire to delay the oncoming grief.

The news comes after weeks of stilted progress for the Department of Defense Enforcers. Teams have been searching for members of the growing group all over western Europe to little avail. The members of this organization are cunning, resourceful, and elusive. Your Defense Enforcers are working day and night to find and capture each and every member, but the process is dangerous and lengthy.

At eight o'clock this morning, as a team was scoping out an area just northwest of the hospital in the area, they encountered Katie Bell

No. God, no. The words blurred on the page. Bile rose in her throat again, her cheeks wet once more. Nothing else after Katie's name registered. Her body slumped to the floor, the paper loosening from her fingertips and falling beside her. Shaking. Her whole body was shaking. No. Katie Bell was dead. The air was tight, her breathing jagged through choked, uncontrollable sobs.

God only knew how long she stayed in that spot crying, but by the time she picked herself off the floor covered in dried tears and snot, it was nearly nightfall.

She hadn't noticed when the light in Draco's room had turned on.

TW: Description of broken bone, blood, and intense pain.