A/N - Hi everyone! I can't believe that we're already at the end. Thank you so much to In_Dreams for betaing and all her help with this story. Thank you to all of you for reading and following along each week :) I've loved interacting with you and reading your thoughts each update! I hope you like the ending 3
Hogwarts 1996
Nothing had changed in the Hogwarts library—at least not physically—but it felt different than the last time Draco had been there. The lights seemed dimmer, casting shadows everywhere, the air tasted stale, and despite thousands of books lining the aisles, the space felt empty.
Maybe nothing had changed, except for Draco.
He pulled at his green and silver tie, loosening its choking hold on his neck. Pins and needles shot down his arms, accompanied by an overwhelming heat that was stifling. He rolled a small vial between his fingers, focused on the sensation of the cool glass against his damp palm instead of the pounding of his heartbeat.
Using his thumb, he pushed at the edge of the cork, but it was lodged in the top and unmoving. His grip tightened, forcing it until the glass slipped through his fingertips and fell to the floor with a crack. He watched numbly as the blue liquid spread along the divots in the stone.
"Evanesco," he muttered, vanishing the spilled potion.
If he knew Granger as well as he thought, she would be here any minute. He was dreading this conversation with every fibre of his being, but in order for her to be safe, he needed her to hate him. She would never be safe with him, not while his father was alive. It pained him to taint the memory of their library.
He hurried to pull a second potion out of his pocket, identical to the first, and he downed it in one gulp. The anti-anxiety potion had a minty aftertaste that made him shudder; he hated the flavour but the effect was immediate. He subconsciously gripped his forearm over his uniform, wincing at the dull pain.
"I won't do it," Draco hissed, his nostrils flaring.
He looked over his shoulder before closing the door to his mother's room. The last thing she needed in her state was to fret over her husband and son arguing in the hall. Draco had spent the morning with her, trying to convince her to eat even a bite of soup. Her appetite had been waning for months and she was currently in the middle of one of her spells.
"Do not be insolent, Draco." Lucius narrowed his eyes at his son like a challenge. "I already informed the Dark Lord that you graciously accept his order."
Draco clenched his fists at his side. "Then tell him you lied."
"I was so proud the day that you were born. I had my son, my heir, my prodigy," Lucius said through his teeth, his lips curled up in disgust. "You have been nothing but a disappointment since that day."
For years, Draco had clawed and begged for his father's approval. He had grown up parroting his father's opinions, mimicking his mannerisms, trying to emulate him, but he refused to live like that any longer. "I don't care."
"You do not care?" Lucius repeated, elongating the words. "Do you not realise what this will do for you? For our family? This will elevate our name and standing with the Dark Lord. There is no refusing the Dark Lord; we would be cast out."
"We?" Draco choked out a mirthless laugh. "This has nothing to do with me. Our name is where it is because of you. You disappointed the Dark Lord last year and I won't be the one to suffer for that."
The tip of Lucius' wand dug into the column of Draco's throat, and Draco squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the agony he knew was coming. "You will tell the Dark Lord that you accept. You will attend Hogwarts next year and fulfill his mission."
"I already told you—"
"Someone with as much to lose as you should not be so defiant."
Draco's stomach dropped. "As much to lose as I do?"
"Your filthy little mudblood," Lucius spat, and flecks of saliva hit Draco's chin. "It would be a shame if she were caught in the crossfire during our next mission."
Nausea swirled Draco's insides and the world began to spin along with him. Blaise would never betray him, and he knew Granger hadn't mentioned them to anyone who would tell his father. "Who told you?"
"You think I do not have informants reporting on you? You are my heir. There is nothing that you do that I do not know about. You are lucky that I did not use the opportunity to dispose of her in the Department of Mysteries."
His knees threatened to buckle under him. "You can't! Promise me, you won't."
Lucius lowered his wand and sneered at his son. "If only I had an incentive to protect her."
It was clear that Draco had only two choices.
If he said no, he would be disowned and banished from the Manor. His mother would be alone through her ailment, possibly dying alone. Granger would be in danger.
If he said yes, he could care for his mother and ensure Granger's safety, even at the cost of losing her.
From the day of his mother's diagnosis, it felt like a countdown had begun, slowly progressing until the day she would inevitably leave him. He couldn't lose them both, not now. If this was the sacrifice necessary for Granger to live a full, happy life, he would do it happily.
"Then you'd protect her? If I kill Dumbledore?" Draco swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy. "You would make sure she wouldn't be harmed?"
"Yes."
He gnawed on his inner cheek, weighing his options. "I'll do it."
"In order to fulfill your task, you will have to take his Mark," Lucius drawled, slow and melodic. "You will finally be a true follower of the Dark Lord."
Draco looked down at his unblemished forearm with a sense of foreboding. "On one condition."
Lucius scoffed. "You are not in a position to make demands."
"If I don't accept this task, the shame will fall on you. I'd say that you are the one who is not in the position to make demands."
"What is your condition?"
With an upturned chin, Draco met his father's eye with a defiant gaze. "Make the Unbreakable Vow that you'll protect her and I'll take the Mark. I won't agree to the task without it. I refuse to just take your word for it."
Lucius' face pinched and his eyes bulged. "Fine."
The ceremony was that night. The walk to the sitting room made Draco feel like a doomed man walking to the gallows. Bellatrix pulled him into her arms, whispering that she was proud of him. He felt like he was floating above his own body, watching the scene below him.
When it was done, he opened his eyes and found himself lying on the cold marble tiles in his bathroom, his skin red and inflamed with streaks of his own fingernail marks clawed down the length of his arm. He sobbed until he lost his supper and fell back to the floor, knowing Granger would never love him. No matter what, he resolved that she would never see his Mark; he didn't want her to remember him like this.
He lost weeks of his life, stuck in a trance of grief, and a heavy fog of darkness settled over him.
Dreams of a future with her died the moment the Dark Lord's wand touched his forearm. The closer she was to him, the more likely she was to become collateral damage in this war. He felt like collapsing in on himself under the weight on his shoulders; he couldn't pass that burden on to her.
He cried until he was spent of tears.
The sound of Granger's footsteps ripped Draco from the memory. He didn't know how he was supposed to do this. Even if he had a lifetime to prepare, he would never be ready. He had to hurt her in a way he swore that he never would, and then he had to murder Dumbledore. She appeared between the aisles of books, positively glowing. His stomach dropped—he didn't deserve the way she lit up when she saw him.
"There you are, Malfoy!" she squealed his name and skipped over to him, her cloak billowing behind her. "I wondered where you were; I looked everywhere for you at the welcoming feast."
His throat felt like it was closing in on him. "I was busy."
"But it's the start of the term. How are you busy already?" Her smile faded into confusion and her brow furrowed.
She reached for him, and her hand brushed his left arm. He flinched and pulled away from her touch.
"What's wrong?" Her face was crestfallen from the sting of his rejection. "Are you okay?"
It took everything in him to fix a sneer on his face. "What are you doing?"
Granger looked startled at the question. "What? I… I just missed you. I haven't heard from you all summer."
"You have no right to touch me like that," he bristled, his eyes falling to the ground. "Who do you think you are?"
"I'm so sorry, I thought—"
"You thought? You thought what?" he asked, forcing the words out with the harshest tone he could muster.
Her lower lip trembled and he nearly cracked. "Why are you being so cruel? I don't understand."
"This is just who I am, Granger. I don't know what else you expected."
"What is this? Are you breaking up with me?" Tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over. "What did I do wrong?"
Draco let out a stiled chuckle. "Break up? There's nothing to break up."
"But you said—"
"You honestly believed that I would court you? I am a Pureblood and you are nothing more than a—" The word caught in his throat and wouldn't come out.
Tears streamed down Granger's face now, one after the other in a never-ending stream. "Why?"
He had no voice, no strength to answer.
"Why did you bring me back to you last year when you could've just moved on after the night at the Quidditch pitch?" she asked, her question laced with desperation. "What is it? We can get through it together."
The words hit like a dagger to his heart. "It's not that simple."
"What happened this summer? Please, tell me," she begged, bringing her hands up to her chest.
She was too close to finding out the truth and he had to push her away, even if she'd never forgive him for it. "It's simple. This summer you waited around for me like a pathetic girl with a crush. I didn't wait for you."
"You took my first kiss and for what? What did you get out of it? Bragging rights that you broke the Mudblood's heart?" Her pain was laced with fury, shining through her tears.
He would rather die with her believing that was the truth, than for her to have the truth and be the one to die for it. He swallowed the taste of bile rising in his throat. "Yes." The word scorched the tip of his tongue.
His arm itched and burned under his clothing, as red and inflamed as the day he was Marked. Shame filled him to the brim. Granger didn't know the type of person she was fighting to keep. She would never want to stay if she knew the truth.
"I don't believe you," she said, but the anguish in her tone said otherwise. "You told me you would never hurt me."
"And you believed me?"
"Malfoy."
Draco brought a hand up to his face and dragged it down. "How do you not get it, Granger? I don't care about you. I don't want you," his voice broke on the final word, but he hoped the shock masked his torment.
Without another look at her, he turned away so she couldn't see the tears burning his eyes.
Finally, he heard her let out a gut-wrenching sob followed by retreating footsteps as she ran out of the library.
He never thought the last time they kissed would be the last time.
After that night, he began taking dreamless sleep, because even in his dreams he broke her heart.
Present Day
The day should have been full of nerves and excitement, celebrating Hermione's work, but instead she just felt like crying. Ron and Ginny's appearance had thrown a wrench into the truce that Malfoy and Hermione had found. Though Hermione was grateful for their support, she couldn't help but feel lost and off balance. She didn't know how to interact with Malfoy in front of an audience, and from his brooding silence, it seemed that he felt the same.
Malfoy had spent the remainder of the night and the entirety of the morning in his room. Just after dawn, there was a delivery from the hotel staff: an entire cart full of breakfast foods ranging from pastries to omelettes with a handwritten note attached to it, dated from earlier this week.
Good luck today, Granger. You'll blow them away like you've always done to me.
With a loop on each 'y'.
Her heart panged with fresh regret from their argument the night before, and she slipped the card into her pocket for safekeeping. Malfoy never left his room to eat with them.
Hermione spent the better part of the night informing Ron and Ginny of everything that they had missed during school, consciously glossing over the abrupt ending at the start of sixth year—they certainly didn't need another grudge to hold against Malfoy. They both listened in silence, though Ginny's was more of a quiet understanding and Ron stewed. It felt impossible to explain the impact that Malfoy had on her during those years, even now, but she did her best.
Following what felt like an eternity of questions, most accusatory, Ron hugged Hermione, which she took to mean that he forgave her. After he went to bed, Hermione and Ginny stayed up talking and Hermione finally broke down over a cup of tea. Sleep eluded her and she tossed and turned all night, thinking about who was on the other side of the wall. The look in Malfoy's eyes when she saw his Mark—she thought he would never forgive her.
Just when Hermione had given up hope that she would see Malfoy again, he opened the door to his room at eight on the dot, all business. The four walked to the conference centre, Malfoy lagging several steps behind and Ginny dominating the conversation with Hermione to fill the silence.
"I recognise that expression," Ginny declared with a knowing look. "You shouldn't be nervous to speak in front of some stodgy old wizards. You're going to do great!"
"Um…" Hermione let out a sigh and pressed her lips together, debating whether she should correct Ginny. It was more heartache than nerves. "Thanks, Gin. I really appreciate it."
So much had transpired in the last twenty-four hours that Hermione had barely thought of the conference presentation. The note cards were waiting in her pocket, but the last thing she felt like doing was rereading them for the thousandth time. She didn't know how to pull Malfoy aside to talk with him, and even if she did, she didn't know what she would say; he might end up even more upset with her and go home to England early.
As soon as they entered the conference centre, they could hear a booming voice echo through from the lobby. "Enough! As I've already explained to your dimwitted assistant, my company is here on behalf of Hermione Granger. I need entrance before—"
"Blaise?" Malfoy called out incredulously, breaking his long-standing silence.
The sound of Malfoy's voice behind her made Hermione jump, and she froze in place as he hurried over to greet his friend. Zabini currently stood face-to-face with the same security guard that Malfoy had snapped at just days ago.
"What's he doing here?" Ron muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Has he been here all week too?"
"I don't know why Zabini is here," Hermione breathed, gaping at the pair. "I haven't seen him before now."
Malfoy's stoic composure was a contrast to Zabini's visible annoyance, but moments later Zabini had a red lanyard in his hands. The men made their way back over towards her, talking between themselves. She strained to read their lips and caught a word or two before they were back in earshot.
"And you didn't reply last night. I gave you six hours before I took a Portkey here." Zabini rubbed the pads of his fingertips down the centre of his forehead, looking a mixture of relieved and exhausted. "Those damn security guards wouldn't give me any information, even when I presented my credentials."
"You didn't have to do that, mate." Malfoy frowned. "I'm sorry that I caused you to worry. I forgot to charge my mobile last night and I've been… distracted."
Zabini eyed Ron and Ginny, coming to a halt in front of them. "I can see that."
His disconcerting gaze ruffled Hermione, as if he were wary of her.
"Weasley and Weasley, these are for you," Malfoy muttered, handing over two identical passes. "You must wear them at all times so the incompetent security guards don't accidentally hex you. They couldn't find a three-headed dog if it bit them. They had the audacity to claim they never received word from Aline that you were coming; probably just lost the paperwork."
"Thanks, Malfoy," Ginny said brightly, accepting both and tossing one to her brother. "Ron and I are going to go find front row seats for the big speech."
"We are?" Ron repeated, looking from Ginny to Hermione.
Ginny grabbed his hand and began dragging him in the opposite direction. "We are. We should hurry before they're all taken."
The seats wouldn't be filled for another half hour, but Hermione was grateful to Ginny for the moment of privacy. Perhaps she could talk to Malfoy before her speech.
"I'm going to check the wards, perform a sweep around the audience, and make sure the scans around the podium come back clean." Malfoy gave a quick nod to Zabini, his eyes communicating a silent message.
Perhaps not.
"I will," Zabini replied, answering the question Malfoy never asked.
Hermione lunged forward in a panic. "Wait—"
"He'll be back," Zabini whispered, ducking his head. "I'll be with you in the meantime."
She searched his deep brown eyes, catching a glint of worry in them. "You Portkeyed all the way to Paris because he missed a single message from you? You're very protective of him."
"I've had to pick up the pieces on more than one dark occasion. Of course I'm protective of him, he's my brother. I've barely rested all week." Zabini spoke so matter-of-fact, but the meaning behind his words burned.
"Barely rested all week? Why? He's been quite capable," she assured him, thinking of all the times over the past week that he worked tirelessly to make her feel safe.
He chuckled wryly. "I'm not worried about his capabilities for this job. I know that he will keep you safe. I just don't want to see him hurt."
"I was wondering why he'd accept a job like this that might put him in danger," she mused. "I suppose those Malfoy coffers aren't as deep as Ronald thought."
Zabini's jaw ticked and Hermione immediately regretted the poorly timed quip. "You think he's making money off this job?"
"He's not?"
To her surprise, Zabini simply shook his head slowly.
She blinked rapidly, taken aback. "But John hired him, he sent out a contract and everything. He's the only one at the company with experience in dark creatures to do this role."
"Is that what Draco told you?" Hermione nodded and Zabini scoffed. "We easily have two dozen other employees with similar resumés who are equally qualified. He insisted on coming out of his retirement from the field to take this case, and he even upgraded your room out of his own pocket to ensure your comfort."
For the second time in twenty-four hours, she was at a loss for words. "But… but he seemed like he had been dragged here against his will. W–why would he…"
A loud group of wizards and witches entered through the main doors and Zabini indicated for her to follow him off to the side, out of their path. "I'm sure he put on quite an act, the stubborn git. I warned him that this job would take a toll on him, but he wouldn't hear a word against it. He promised he would be professional and let sleeping dogs lie."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Granger, you're the Brightest Witch of Your Age. What do you think that means?"
Half a heartbeat passed before she answered, "He told you about what happened between us, didn't he?"
"He did."
She felt a burst of dormant anger rage inside her chest. "Then you know that he lied to me, strung me along, gave me some fake family ring, and broke my heart."
"Close," Zabini interrupted, tilting his head and pursing his lips. "You were so close; it wasn't fake."
Her heart was stuck in her throat. "What?"
"He gave you the real Malfoy family signet ring. You haven't seen him wear one since, have you?"
"No," she whispered, dizzy with the realisation. "Why would he do that? Why would he tell you about it?"
"Because I'd actually understand what he gave you."
It felt like Zabini was talking in circles. "What are you talking about?"
"He's going to kill me," Zabini said out loud with a half-smile, a dimple pressing into his cheek. "I suppose it's been a good run at least. He will thank me for it one day, I'm sure of it."
Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes, restless for his answer. "Zabini, why?"
He glanced over his shoulder and then back at Hermione, rocking on his heels. "It's an old Pureblood tale, from some ancient book that's quoted by lovesick people who dream of having a love match instead of an arranged marriage. The gift of a Pureblood signet ring is symbolic of building a new family together, just the two of you, and it's a promise to continuously fall in love together, no matter where life takes you."
Her vision blurred with tears and she impatiently brushed them away. "That's beautiful."
"Most marriages don't have the transfer of the signet ring. Not even Lucius gave his to Narcissa, and it was always a sore spot in their marriage," he informed her gently. "Intention is forged into the ring itself, as a means of preventing theft. A side effect of that is that the ring can't be gifted as an empty gesture, and the effects are only felt by an even smaller fraction than that."
Hermione's mind short circuited with this influx of information, and she was breathless to hear more. "Effects?" she echoed, her words drowned out by the pounding of her heart in her ears. "What effects?"
"I should be asking you." He cocked a brow. "According to the tale, everyone experiences it differently."
As ridiculous as it seemed, she couldn't stop asking questions. The world of Purebloods made her feel like a first year all over again, receiving her first magical book which gave her a dozen new questions with every answer.
"I have my suspicions of what Draco's would do for you," he muttered, looking at her hand for traces of the ring.
"Why would he give me something like that and then turn around, months later, cold and withdrawn from me? He made his choice—he chose to join the Death Eaters," she choked out. "You romanticise this whole exchange, but it doesn't change what he did afterwards. If it knows his true intent, then surely the ring is nothing more than a hunk of useless gold."
With a heavy sigh, Zabini retrieved a leather wallet from his blazer pocket and slipped out a photograph that was worn around the edges. It looped on repeat, showing a younger version of Malfoy and Zabini, grinning and sitting on the floor of a small room with a box of pizza in front of them.
"This is what he did afterwards. This was taken on our first night in the one-bedroom flat we rented after Hogwarts, before we even had furniture. We had nothing but each other; disowned by our families for turning against the Dark Lord and shunned by society for having appeared to support him, barely affording food most days after growing up with obscene wealth. It took a year of scraping together every sickle, selling the heirlooms we had kept, and taking odd jobs to build our company's reputation before we had our feet under us again."
She swallowed thickly, feeling a new wave of emotion at the photograph. Malfoy was smiling in it, despite all the heartbreak he had endured.
Zabini continued, "Then Narcissa passed, leaving Draco a substantial fortune from the Black side of their family, and we were able to hire employees for the company so he stepped back to more of an executive role in the company. He's not the spoiled prat he once was, I can guarantee that. And I know you're dying to ask the question, so go ahead."
Was she that obvious?
"Why did he take the Mark? Why did he join the Death Eaters?" Wondering had plagued her for years, tearing her apart from the inside out.
"He took the Mark and accepted the task from the Dark Lord in exchange for Lucius' protection of you; he made Lucius take an Unbreakable Vow that he wouldn't let any harm come to you at his hand or any others."
Hermione gasped, covering her mouth. When she was brought to Malfoy Manor with Harry and Ron during their seventh year, Malfoy's father had threatened the Snatchers not to lay a finger on her, and he had prevented Bellatrix from torturing her about Godric Gryffindor's sword. Nothing made sense back then, but now it did. Lucius had been fulfilling his end of his promise at the risk of his own death.
As long as you have this ring with you, you'll have my heart with you as well.
"Oh my God," she whispered, brushing away her tears with her palms. "I can't believe Malfoy did that for me."
Zabini patted her on the shoulder, obviously uncomfortable by her display of emotion. "He told me you'd moved on, that he ruined any chance he had with you. If he hasn't, do a bloke a favour and let him know?"
A booming voice echoed through the lobby, announcing a five minute warning before the start of the first session.
She hastily nodded and sniffled. "I will."
Then Zabini smiled and straightened his blazer. "Brilliant. Now, it's nearly time for your big moment. Shall we?"
Honestly, she couldn't care less about the speech at the moment; all she wanted was to find Malfoy and give him a hug. She smoothed her dress and touched up her makeup, smeared from the tears, in an attempt to make herself look presentable. The speech was twenty minutes long from start to finish, and as soon as it was over, she would run to Malfoy.
It wasn't until her feet touched the first step up to the stage that anxiety hit her, making her legs wobbly beneath her. She could see Zabini from the corner of her eye, standing protectively at the base of the stage. A light bell echoed through the centre, signalling the start of the first session.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard her introduction at the podium, then applause, and she watched in horror as all eyes turned on her. She had practised for hours in preparation for this moment, and yet she still felt that same all-consuming panic that she always had just before standing in front of a large crowd.
Hermione froze, unable to move a muscle, her mind blank.
She looked helplessly at the assembly before her, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. After a split second of considering Apparition, changing her name, and moving to a new country, she spotted a familiar head of platinum blond hair in the front row next to Ron and Ginny. She thought back to his advice all those years ago.
I just find one person in the crowd who I know and then I talk directly to them.
Hermione found her legs and made a beeline for the podium, steadying herself by leaning against it. She turned to Malfoy, looked him in the eye, and opened her mouth.
"Remus Lupin. That is the name of the man who is the sole reason that I'm standing here today. Ancient Egyptians believed that speaking the name of the dead breathes life into them, so I am here to say his name and breathe life into him once more. Remus Lupin. He was a professor, a father, a recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, a best friend, a scholar, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and he was also a werewolf." She paused, loosening her death-grip on the edge of the podium. Her heart hammered in her chest, but as long as she spoke to Malfoy, she wasn't so worried.
"I met Remus at Hogwarts when he was teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and although he was only my professor for one year, the impact that he had on me will last a lifetime. It took me several months to piece together the clues, the ragged wear on his body just before and following each full moon, the scars, the absences. During his fundamental years, he fought in a war and lost his best friends, yet his boggart was still the full moon," she said solemnly, her heart aching for all that he had suffered.
Malfoy gave her an encouraging look, nodding to her to continue.
When she first sat in front of an empty sheet of parchment and considered what she wanted to share with regards to her research, the first thing she could think of was that she wanted to share Remus' story.
"I saw the effects of lycanthropy on him first hand. He was forcibly turned at a young age, and despite his affliction, he excelled in school and completed a full education while managing his transformations. I visited the location where he spent every full moon during school and I held the chains in my hands." She took a trembling breath, fighting back tears. "He suffered in a way that I would never wish upon anyone."
Then Malfoy sat up in his seat, breaking her eye contact to skim the area around him, wand clutched in his hand.
Something wasn't right.
"The invention of Wolfsbane changed his life, allowing him to transform but retain his human mind. Even if I couldn't help Remus, I wanted to help those like him. I've dedicated years of my life to researching the next step, halting the physical transformation completely. After encouraging initial results, we had a sister lab replicate the results for peer review, and I'm here today to share this with you."
The hair on the back of her neck rose at the same moment that Malfoy leapt out of his seat with his wand extended, and his eyes were fixed on the opposite end of the stage where Hermione would exit at the conclusion of her speech.
Everything began to move in slow motion, like a car crash that she couldn't prevent. The organiser that they had met on the first day, Aline, stood from her seat and raised her wand, pointing it at Hermione. Before she could even blink, Malfoy threw himself in front of Aline, blocking Hermione's view of her.
Hermione tried to scream but nothing came out. There was a blinding flash of purple light, followed by a moment of horrifying silence. Something in Hermione's chest fractured as she watched Malfoy crumple to the floor.
The audience erupted in screams, chairs were knocked over in a panic, and everyone scattered, fleeing towards the exits. Aline stepped over Malfoy's fallen body and pointed her wand back at Hermione, her lips twisted with a smirk as she muttered something. A second burst of light flew towards Hermione, too quick for her to deflect with her wand or move out of its path. It was the oddest sensation, the way the spell slammed into her body but then bounced back off her, leaving her completely unharmed.
Luckily, Aline didn't have another chance to attack; the moment the spell left her wand, Ron and Ginny tackled her to the floor, wrestling the wand from her hand. From across the room, Zabini cast a quick charm to bind Aline's arms behind her.
"Malfoy!" Hermione cried, jumping off the stage and running to him as quick as her legs would move.
Zabini reached Malfoy at the same time that she did. A puddle of blood was quickly forming beneath him, and his arms were wrapped around his torso, eyes squeezed shut from the pain.
"Get off me!" Aline hollered, fighting against the ropes around her wrists and flopping on the floor. Ginny seemed to take great pleasure in pushing her back down.
Ron said something but Hermione couldn't hear him; all she could see was Malfoy.
"Granger," Malfoy wheezed, "You still have the Portkey I gave you?"
She nearly collapsed at the sound of his voice. He was still alive. "Y-yes. I do." She had packed it in her pocket, intending to give it back to him that morning. After Zabini's surprise arrival, she had completely forgotten.
"Take it and go to the safehouse. There could be others from the pack here." His voice was so faint, and even his breathing sounded shallow and weak.
"I'm not going without you!" she insisted, tears now streaming down her cheeks.
"Stop being s-stubborn," Malfoy muttered, his face twisted with pain. "You're always so stubborn."
Zabini raised his voice over the frantic sounds of the escaping audience. "Granger! Take Draco with you; he has healing supplies on him and he'll only sustain more injuries staying here. The Weasleys have apprehended the primary attacker and I'll look out for accomplices who may be trying to hide in the chaos."
Hermione refused to wait a second more. She took the pen that Malfoy had given her the night before and pushed it between his bloody fingers until they were both holding it. Using her thumb, she pressed down on the top twice, firmly clicking the pen.
The longer the week went on, the more Draco became convinced that this was his own personal Hell; the sins of his past were torture and there was no escape. He faded in and out of consciousness, but he jolted awake upon impact when he landed in the safehouse with Granger by his side.
He groaned and rolled over, wincing at the excruciating pain that shot through his entire body. "Damn it, Granger. Would it kill you to listen to me for once?"
Granger let out a choked cry, which only made him feel worse. "I'd never leave you. Don't you dare ask me to leave you ever again."
"She wasn't after me." He pushed out the words, his eyelids fluttering shut. "I needed you safe."
"Why would you jump in front of me?" she asked helplessly.
He opened his eyes and black spots swarmed his vision. "I can't lose you again."
"You're an idiot if you think you ever lost me," she sobbed, gathering him in her arms. "Oh God, you're bleeding, you're bleeding, Malfoy—"
"Granger, I need you to calm down and help me."
Her breath came in short, frantic pants, and her eyes darted all over his body, never staying in the same spot for more than a moment. "This is all my fault, I should've listened to you, I should've—"
"Hermione," he whispered her name.
The haze in her eyes cleared and she met his gaze. "Yes?"
"I need you to reach into my blazer pocket. On the topmost shelf in the section labelled 'M', there's a rounded red bottle with dark grey liquid in it. I need you to get that for me. Can you do that?"
Anxiety crackled in the air around her as she carefully removed his blazer and searched for materials, rummaging in his extended pocket. He had amassed more than a thousand potions and ingredients in his personal storage, all held under stasis to ensure their quality. Luckily, she found each item on the first try, and together, they worked quickly. With his direction, she healed his wound, draining it of dark magic, fed him a blood replenishing potion, and scanned him for any residual traces of the curse.
"There really is an apothecary in your pocket," she said in awe. "It must have taken years to put together this collection."
Slowly, he felt himself regaining his strength, and he sat up with the help of Granger, who wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on his shoulder. When his vision cleared, he saw Granger covered in his blood with bright eyes full of tears.
He hadn't forgotten the night before, the way she recoiled in horror at him—the true him.
"Thank you for saving me," he murmured, forlorn that her speech had been ruined. She deserved that moment, deserved to be recognised by her peers. "I understand if you want to go back and check on your friends. You don't have to feel obligated to stay with me."
"Zabini told me everything." She nervously twisted her necklace around her fingers.
For the second time in minutes, his heart nearly stopped. "What do you mean by everything?"
"Did you really sacrifice all of that for me? Did you take the Mark in exchange for my safety?" she asked, her voice cracking. A fresh wave of tears escaped the corners of her eyes and slid down her cheeks. "You should've told me back then."
"You never would've let me go through with it." He tilted his head and brushed a loose curl behind her ear. He used his wand to gently remove all traces of his blood from her, and then repeated the same actions on himself and the hardwood beneath them.
"How did he find out about us? Your father?"
Draco offered her a hand. "I think we need a suitable chair for a discussion like this."
Immediately, she protested, "But you need to be careful. Don't strain yourself."
"I'm just standing up, Granger. I'm not running a marathon," he drawled, lips curving up into his signature smirk.
For the first time since their Portkey landed, Granger examined their surroundings. "Oh, wow. This has much nicer decor than my flat! This is certainly not what I was expecting when you mentioned a safehouse."
Draco's chest puffed with pride at her praise. He had taken meticulous care to hand-select every piece of furniture and artwork. He took her by the hand and guided her over to the sofa. She tucked her legs under herself, facing him.
"I didn't know how he figured it out at first, but I later found out that he intercepted an owl that I tried to send to you earlier in the summer. When I arrived at the Manor, my father had already opened our home to Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. My letter tried to warn you, and he saw that as the ultimate betrayal that required penance."
Her lower lip quivered. "But he's in Azkaban now. Why didn't you tell me after the war?"
"I wrote a hundred letters and burned every last one." Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and everything came pouring out all at once. "You hated me. I hated myself. You were grieving. I was scared. I thought you'd moved on with Weasley. I had a thousand excuses but no matter what I wanted, you deserved better than a disgraced Death Easter without a knut to his name."
She shook her head quickly. "I don't care about that. I never would've cared about that."
"You don't have to say that." He dropped his head in shame, feeling the residual burn of his Mark under his sleeve. "I don't expect you to forgive me after all this time. I figured that you forgot all about me years ago."
Her voice was quiet but steady. "At first, it felt like the days crawled by and I thought I'd never feel like myself again. But somehow it felt even worse to try to forget; I hated how as the weeks began to pass, I thought of you less and less. Then, something would come out of the blue and knock the air from my lungs and bring me back to those moments with you. I don't care if it's been a hundred years, Draco, I never would've forgotten you. So much of who I am today comes from who you were with me then."
"I never felt more like my true self than when I was with you. I found that part of myself again this week. I miss who I was with you," he confided, feeling that familiar clench in his chest. "I know it's too late; I'm not under any delusions that you haven't moved on. I just couldn't let you leave again, believing that I didn't care about you."
Granger reached for her necklace, her eyes glistening with tears. Her fingers trembled as she pressed on both sides of the pendant, and it opened with a click.
White noise roared in his ears like static. Inside the round pendant was the gold signet ring that he had given her back at Hogwarts.
"You kept it," he breathed. He was sure it had ended up in a rubbish bin somewhere.
"I promised you that I'd wear it every day," she whispered, letting it fall onto her palm. "I tried locking it away in my trunk back at school, back when I was furious with you, but I couldn't go long without it. I don't know how to describe it, but wearing it feels like a comforting hug, like everything is going to be okay. I justified it by saying I'd just wear it to help with the stress of sixth year, and then the war, and then I never took it off."
Relief flooded through him. He thought he had seen Aline's second curse bounce off Granger, but his eyesight had been fuzzy. "It repelled the curse," he said, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the situation. "Fuck. I really could've lost you."
"Zabini said signet rings hold the gifter's intent." She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Does that mean—"
"I wanted to protect you, no matter the cost."
"Then you…" her voice trailed off, as if she couldn't say the words.
He knew her better than he knew himself. "I did. I still do."
Her lips parted and she let out a shuddering breath. "I wish you hadn't left."
"It would've been selfish of me to try and keep you." He searched her eyes, trying to read her reaction.
"Sometimes it's okay to be selfish and take care of yourself first," she said, repeating his own words back to him. "What is it that you truly want?"
"Hermione." His voice wavered with emotion. "I don't deserve…"
"What do you want, Draco?" she asked again, shifting closer to him.
"You."
The brush of Hermione's fingertips across his cheek felt featherlight, as if she thought he might break beneath her.
As soon as her lips met his, the years melted away around them.
He mourned all the wasted time, every second that had passed without her in his arms. His fingers tangled in her hair as he pulled her to him. Given the choice between air and her, he would pick her every time.
He lifted her by her waist and settled her on his lap with ease. Draco wanted all of her; he wanted her bare skin against his, to kiss the swell of her breasts, to feel her pulse race from his touch, to make her come undone again and again.
Taking just a moment to break their kiss, she shifted until her thighs straddled him with her skirt bunched up at the sides. She carefully balanced herself with her palms to his chest, her bruising grip wrinkling his shirt. His tongue swept over hers, eliciting a soft whimper.
She leaned forward, sinking her hands in his hair and gasped when she came in contact with his bulge. Her hips stuttered and she began rocking against him, dragging her core along his clothed cock that was straining desperately against his trousers. A groan caught in his throat and his mind grew hazy, his hips lifting to match her rhythm.
Hermione tossed her head back, and Draco worked his way down, kissing and sucking every inch of exposed skin. Her hands slid up his chest and her fingers dug into his shoulders, encouraging him with soft whines. She fumbled to undo his tie, knotted at the base of his throat, and was successful after a moment of struggle. It fell to the floor beside the sofa.
"Does this safehouse happen to have a bed?" she asked breathlessly.
Reality crashed over him, dousing him with guilt, and he froze with his lips pressed to her collarbone.
"Granger, wait—"
"Oh, I'm Granger again, am I?"
He lifted her chin to meet his eyes. "Hermione."
"Yes?"
"Before we go any further, I have to confess something to you. I feel awful about it, but earlier this week, I violated your trust." He swallowed thickly, feeling his stomach churn with nerves.
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"A few nights ago, you silenced your room before bed, despite my explicit instruction not to. I was worried when I couldn't hear anything, and I wanted to make sure that you were safe." It didn't absolve him of anything, but he wanted her to know he had started with good intentions.
Her head cocked to the side as she waited for him to continue, her cheeks still flushed.
"As part of my training, I used the same spell I used on the door last night on your wall."
He watched as the pieces fell into place in her mind.
"Oh…" Her eyes widened. "Oh."
Fear gripped his heart like a vice, and he squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for a slap or a scream. "I'm so sorry. It was beyond reprehensible, and I understand if you're disgusted with me and want to stop."
"Did you like it?"
His eyes opened just a sliver, afraid he had misheard her. "Did I… did I like it?"
Her pupils were blown wide and she dragged her lower lip between her teeth. "Did you touch yourself?" Her voice was low and husky.
Draco's throat bobbed with a harsh swallow. He thought back to that night and his cock twitched against her thigh. "Yes."
"Did you come?" She sounded so nonchalant, as if they were talking about the weather and not his twisted voyeuristic betrayal.
He nodded, unable to form words. This was not how he had expected this conversation to go.
"I thought about you that night. I imagined you were in that bed with me," she confessed in a quiet whisper, the corners of her lips twitched up. She resumed grinding on him, whether that was a conscious decision or not, he couldn't tell. Her eyes trailed lower and she chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. "I suppose it's only fair that I get to watch you now."
For someone who loved to search the world for new words, Draco was positive that there wasn't a word in existence that could encapsulate his shock. "You—what? Surely you're joking."
Hermione climbed off his lap, leaving it cold in her wake. "I assure you, I'm not. You never did answer my question." She followed his line of sight to the closed door on the right. "An eye for an eye. Come on, Draco."
With shaky legs, he rushed to follow her to the bedroom, still dazed by her request. He sat on the edge of the bed with Hermione standing in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest. He made a mental note that they needed better circulation in the room—there was no air, and he felt seconds away from passing out.
"So…" he trailed off, unsure of how to begin.
His cock tented the front of his trousers, proudly displaying itself to Hermione. Her curious brown eyes stared at the bulge, and it twitched its approval at her presence.
"It's only fair that I can see you, Draco," she teased, arching a single brow. "After all, you saw much worse of me."
She had a point.
And his cock was begging to be touched.
Who was he to deny her?
He pressed his palm to his cock from over his trousers, squeezing lightly. It jumped in his hand, growing painfully hard. Her curious brown eyes watched the motion intently, the same way she would when she dissected a challenge in class. The room was silent with the exception of their breaths.
With jittery hands, he removed his belt, not breaking her eye contact. Shortly after, he unbuttoned his trousers, revealing his cock. He couldn't help but feel nervous. What if he wasn't what she was expecting. What if she was disappointed? What if—
She licked her lips and pressed her thighs together, and he nearly lost it. Her hungry expression reminded him of the way it felt to watch her. Was it possible that he had the same effect on her? He cupped the underside of his cock, focusing on the pleasure that he felt as he moved his hand up and down his length.
"Is this what you did while you watched me?" Hermione murmured, her lips parted slightly.
"Yes."
"What were you thinking about?"
"You," he rasped, increasing his speed.
Oh fuck. He never thought that having her watch him masturbate would feel this good, but he now had this to add to his list of fantasies.
"What else?"
His eyelids fluttered, but he refused to be the first to break their stare. "I wanted to touch you, to taste you, to be the one to make you make those sounds. I wanted to make you come on my fingers and then my cock, I wanted to bury myself so deep inside you that you'd never want anyone else ever again."
She whimpered ever so softly, and suddenly she was on her knees in front of him. His cock jumped at the glorious sight.
"What are you doing?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and grinned. "I thought it was obvious." She dragged a finger up his length, the pads of her fingers grazing along a vein. "Unless you don't want me to—"
Without meaning to, he barked out a nervous laugh. As if he would ever turn her away. "I want you to."
She turned her focus back to his throbbing cock; her hand, much smaller than his, could barely close around his girth.
"Oh Gods," he choked out.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his and she gave an experimental squeeze. "Are you okay?"
He nodded rapidly. "I'm just not fully convinced that I didn't actually die from that curse."
"Is that a complaint?"
"Absolutely fucking not."
She raised her brows in amusement. "You're saying that you'd gladly be dead if it meant that I was still here, sucking your cock?"
A groan worked its way out of him at her vulgar language. The tip began to weep, and she casually swept the bead down his length. It wasn't even a question. "Yes."
"You didn't die, Draco," she said. "And I'm quite glad about that fact."
Hermione dragged her tongue up his cock, starting at the base and flicking gently along the underside of his head. She pressed her lips together and then lowered her head, pushing the tip into her mouth, bobbing up and down.
The warm inferno of her mouth felt like nirvana, and he still didn't believe that this was real. After several minutes of her working him, he caught movement from the corner of his eye, and looked down just in time to see her fingers working under her skirt.
Fucking hell.
His pulse skipped in his veins, and he had to stop himself from finishing right there.
She suckled the tip, circling it like those sugar quills that he used to watch with envy back at Hogwarts. He couldn't stop the moans that rumbled out of his chest, but she seemed to enjoy them. Encouraged by his reactions, she took him further into her mouth, as far as she could fit. His breaths were nothing but sharp breaths, and he nestled his fingers in her hair, gathering it so it was out of her eyes.
"Gran—Hermione," he panted. "I'm close."
He felt her smile around his cock, but she continued, undeterred. He twitched in warning of his imminent release, and she took him even deeper, swallowing around him.
A flurry of stars burst behind his eyelids, and his head fell back with a silent cry.
"Fuck," he breathed out, his ears ringing with the aftereffects of his climax. "Can I touch you?"
"Please," she whined, standing on wobbly legs.
Her begging stirred something in his chest. He stood to meet her, gently pushing her hair to the side to unzip her dress. With each inch that was revealed as the garment moved down her body, he lavished her with kisses. Finally, the material fell to the floor, and she was wearing nothing but a pair of pale blue knickers that were nearly transparent.
They climbed onto the bed together, with Draco by her side. He nudged her legs apart, silently asking for her permission. Her knees fell to the sides, exposing the damp centre of her knickers. His mouth grew dry just looking at her, and he captured her lips, tasting himself on her tongue. He made steady circles over the thin fabric, testing out her reactions.
Before he could continue, she hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband and removed her knickers completely, now bare before him. She seemed as impatient as he felt, and his cock began to grow again, ready for another round with her.
He continued to work her lips and clit in parallel, testing out different speeds. He brought his fingers through her folds, her cunt glistening with arousal.
"You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice low. "Was this all from taking my cock in your mouth, Hermione?"
She shivered and nodded, rotating her hips to chase his teasing fingers.
"Good girl."
The sound of her keening under his praise was music to his ears. He wanted to collect her every reaction, her every sound, to explore the landscape of her body until he could sculpt her from memory alone.
"I bought that at the lingerie shop," she said with a coy smile.
It took him a moment to register her meaning. "You bought this for me?" he rasped, looking at the discarded knickers. It was the same colour that he had caught her trying on in the dressing room.
She nodded shyly.
"Then I have a new favourite colour."
"Draco, harder, please," she pleaded.
Eager to please, he increased pressure, intently watching her reaction. He eased a single thick finger into her heat, and her slick walls clenched around the intrusion. She gasped and raised her hips, silently asking for more.
He curled his fingers upwards for a few strokes and she rewarded him with a groan. "Just like that." He could hear the raw desire in her voice, the way it rasped as his lips pressed open mouth kisses to the hollow of her throat.
Maintaining his same pace with his fingers, he paid special attention to her breasts, licking nibbling at the soft flesh. She arched her back off the sheets, her nipples straining towards him.
He could feel her tensing up, but he had to taste her and he couldn't wait a moment longer.
Draco nestled himself between her thighs, holding her hips in place with his hands. With a broad stroke of his tongue across her abused clit, a shudder ran through her body. He wrapped his lips around the tiny bundle of nerves, sucking gently. Her breath grew ragged above him, and she squirmed, holding fistfuls of his hair.
Without slowing his onslaught, he pushed two fingers into her, relishing in the way every muscle in her body seemed to tense. Her thighs shook around his head, but he continued at his established tempo, knowing she was on the edge.
"Draco!"
He had never heard anything as beautiful as the way she moaned his name. She contracted around his fingers in waves, her orgasm crashing through her. He watched in wonder, amazed that he was the one to do this to her.
Hermione's arms fell back to the bed and she let out a satisfied sigh. "I've lost the ability to move my body."
He proudly grinned and climbed over to kiss her once more. "Then I think I've done something right."
She reached up to unbutton his shirt, tugging on the first button. It was the last article of clothing either of them had on. Sheer terror paralysed him; he wasn't ready for her to see his Mark again.
As if she could read his mind, she met his eyes with a softened expression. "It's okay, Draco."
He chose to believe her, allowing her to remove the last barrier between them. He shifted places until he was on top of her, lost in her brown eyes. She parted her legs, accepting him between them. With practiced restraint, he rubbed his cock through her folds and along her clit, back and forth until her legs began to tremble again.
"I need you," she whispered, saying the words that they both felt.
It was all the encouragement that he needed, and he began to push into her tight heat. They shared a gasp, their foreheads pressed together with his hands on her hips and hers on his shoulders. He moved with slow, measured thrusts until he bottomed out inside her.
The moment felt so intimate. She was like home, happiness incarnate, everything he'd dreamed of.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
He kissed her again before she could respond, the ridge of his head dragged against her walls again and again.
She broke the kiss long enough to declare, "I love you, too."
The best words in the English language, one after the other.
Her hips lifted higher, accepting him even deeper. He was mesmerised by the way her breasts bounced with every thrust. They fell into a perfect rhythm, their bodies in sync with the other. He made sure to mimic the same tempo that his fingers had used earlier, hoping to bring her to another climax.
She gripped his forearms and he felt her walls tighten. He was so close, but his drive to make her finish first outweighed his need to come. She moaned and fluttered around his cock, falling apart beneath him. He couldn't hold back any longer. A bolt of electricity shot up his spine exploding in a flash of white heat and he buried his head in her neck, breathing in her signature scent of vanilla.
She had absolutely wrecked him in a way that he was sure he would never recover from.
Draco stroked Hermione's scalp softly, occasionally pausing to kiss the top of her head, and she melted into him. He never wanted to leave this bed.
"I hope you know that I truly meant it," he said quietly, playing with her curls. "I love you, Hermione."
She looked up at him with wide eyes. "I know. I truly love you, too. I—"
From the other room, a loud crash sounded out, followed by several expletives.
"Fucking hell, Weasley. You didn't have to land on top of me. Was that your first time taking a Portkey?"
Hermione jolted up in bed, grabbing a blanket to cover herself. "Oh my God! They're here!"
"Hermione?" Weaslette called, sounding panicked. "I don't see any signs of them. Are you sure the Portkey took them here?"
"Positive," Blaise replied. "The Portkeys are a pair, and the moment Draco and Granger landed, they breached the wards and it alerted my half. I doubt Granger would try to transport him to a magical hospital without sending word after they arrived."
Draco dropped his face into his hands. He and Hermione were flushed, covered in a sheen of sweat, in a bed, and naked. It would be obvious to anyone, even Weasley, what they had done. "I forgot Blaise had the other Portkey for the safehouse. Shit. I'm so sorry."
Then Blaise shushed the Weasleys. "Wait right here, I'll be back." Footsteps approached the cracked bedroom door. Draco held his breath and Hermione brought the blanket up even higher, now covering the bottom half of her face.
The footsteps stopped and Blaise nudged the door open another few inches until only his smirking face was visible.
"They're okay," he called over his shoulder, laughing under his breath. "They've just… just finished healing Draco." He winked and pulled the door shut, giving them privacy.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Weasley asked, his voice muffled by the door between them.
After a beat, Weaslette snickered. "It would seem that our dear Hermione has a healing touch. Sounds like he will make a full recovery."
Draco and Hermione both scrambled to get dressed, hopping around the room to find their clothing and tossing random articles to each other. His tie was somewhere in the living room, but hopefully no one had noticed.
"Coming! Just finishing up Draco's bandaging!" Hermione yelled, sounding far too out of breath for their cover story. She was not a great liar.
"Draco?" Weasley repeated, dumbfounded. "When did he become Draco?"
"I'd say at least one round ago, possibly sooner," Weaslette quipped.
Hermione swept her hair to the side and turned her back to Draco, who zipped up the dress and placed a kiss on her shoulder. She spun around to face him, unable to resist pulling him in for just one more kiss.
"Keep doing that, and you might start to lose your clothing again," he murmured against her lips. "Weasley be damned."
Blaise knocked once on the wall from the sitting room. "Don't even think about it."
One frantic cooling charm later, and the pair sheepishly made their way into the living room. Both Weasleys rushed over to Hermione and hugged her tightly.
"I'm so glad you're okay," Weaslette said. "We were so worried that you could've been injured too. I saw the second spell hit you!"
"It did hit me, but it didn't harm me. I promise that I'm not hurt," Hermione reassured her, showing her arms for proof.
Draco avoided eye contact with Weasley and Blaise slung his arm over Draco's shoulder. "Feeling much better, I assume?"
"Very funny. Did you turn Aline over to the Aurors? What happened after we left?" Draco asked, his curiosity overpowering his need to taunt Weasley.
"It wasn't really Aline," Blaise informed him with a shrug. "We found the real Aline tied up in a storage closet at the back of the conference centre next to her office. That was someone under Polyjuice who used her authority and credentials to gain access to the centre and hide in plain sight in the front row for Granger's speech."
"Ron questioned her; he was actually quite brilliant at it," Weaslette said, sounding impressed.
"Why would you be surprised that I knew what to do? I am an Auror, it's part of my job," Weasley grumbled, the tips of his ears red.
Draco looked between the siblings. "And?"
"She's raving mad. She said she's the mate of a prominent werewolf in a pack back home. He preached about werewolf superiority and the pack way of life, and was proud of being a werewolf. Someone thrust a silver stake into his heart a year back and she's still delirious with grief. Hermione's potion was against everything her mate preached, and she had it in her head that its existence would eradicate their kind."
"How did you know something was off?" Blaise prompted Draco, his eyebrows knitting together.
He sighed, remembering the moment in flashes. "There was a slight shimmer at the edge of the stage. I saw something like it in Romania once, a sort of residue from dark magic often practiced by dark creatures. If she had crossed that line—" He shuddered at the thought, unable to finish his sentence.
"Malfoy," Weasley said, stepping forward to catch his attention. "I wanted to say thank you for saving Hermione. I thought I could do it, but I watched the same stage that you did and I missed that. Not only that, but I saw the way you sacrificed yourself to keep her safe and how she did the same to heal you. I'm glad that she has you." He extended his hand for a gentleman's handshake, and Draco accepted in disbelief.
"Thanks, Weasley."
Hermione slipped into place next to him, taking his hand in hers and lacing their fingers together. "Thank you, Draco. In all the chaos, I forgot to say thank you."
"I think you already found a way to say thank you," Weaslette added with a snicker.
Blaise lifted his hand to her and she high-fived him, grinning.
"Very funny," Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're worse than a bunch of third years, I swear."
"I think now that we've confirmed they're both safe, maybe we should give them some peace and quiet for recovery. They've had a big morning." Blaise crossed over to the front door and waved for the Weasleys to follow. "Lunch?"
Ron was halfway across the room before Blaise even finished saying the word.
"We'll be back in an hour." Weaslette waggled her eyebrows. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
The odd trio shuffled out of the safehouse and left Draco and Hermione alone once again.
"You're going to have to apologise to Crookshanks, you know," she said, matter-of-fact. "He's still furious with you."
Draco's mouth fell open. "He's still alive? I thought he was going on thirty when we were still in school."
"Crookshanks is eternal."
He thought back to his talks with Crookshanks in the library, waiting for Hermione to join them. "I can only imagine what he thinks of me now."
"He tore up all the notes you gave me in fifth year," she added, twisting his signet on her finger.
"He did?"
She nodded. "I had them saved in a box, and the week after you broke up with me, I found them piled up like a little shrine beside the fireplace."
"Oh gods."
"To be honest, I half thought he figured out a way to curse you."
A shiver ran down his spine. "I wouldn't put it past him. I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to you and to Crookshanks."
"Oh, he will outlive us for sure. Don't make promises you can't keep, Malfoy," she whispered, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
Draco lifted her hand up to his lips, and he kissed the signet on her finger. "I'll keep this promise until my final breath, Granger."