Sorry for the wait, everyone. I've had quite a bit of unexpected things going on in my personal life recently, and have unfortunately needed to dial back on my writing schedule quite a bit. I apologize for this, as I so deeply appreciate all the love I receive from you all and hate to leave you hanging for long periods of time. It is still unclear how much I'll be dialing back, but by the time 14 is out (expect it in the next few days), I will have a better idea. So much love for you all and your patience - thank you.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A spell crashed into the wall behind Hermione, feeling white-hot as it grazed just past her temple. She did not hesitate, wandlessly erecting a quick shield before throwing back a spell of her own. It was a flash of angry red against platinum hair, as it, too, grazed past its target, just missing him as he dodged it expertly. Sweat dripped down Hermione's forehead and into her eyes, its salty sting causing her to blink rapidly. Still, she did not waver and charged forward, whipping out her foot at the last moment so that Malfoy stepped into its path as he went to dodge her. The result was him toppling to the ground, and her landing astride him, wand at his throat. It was only the second time of more than a dozen that she'd managed it this morning, but it was still a victory for her nonetheless. He was looking at her with what almost seemed like respect, and she allowed herself to revel in it.

Her free hand was pressed firmly against his hard chest, and she could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat under her hand as he looked back up at her. She watched as his eyes slid down her body until they rested on the hand that was on his chest, where her wedding ring glittered in the low light that filtered through the window. She hadn't bothered to keep it glamoured when they weren't on missions, and it now shone at her like a beacon. Even she could admit that the ring was stunning, and there had been many a moment that she'd stopped to admire its glittering beauty that seemed to both mock and entrance her at once. She looked back up and met his eyes again, wondering what had passed through his mind as he'd stared at it. But as quickly as she thought she'd caught an openness in his expression, his eyes hardened into his usual indifferent mask.

There was a sharp rap on the door then and they both looked up, scrambling to their feet as they both came to the realization that it was an Order member at the same time. She reached the door first and pulled in open in time to see Kingsley's back as he quickly strode toward where the apparition wards ended at the tree line.

"Kingsley!" she called, running down the steps.

Kingsley sighed, turning back to look at her. The grey morning light illuminated his haggard features in a way that felt almost melancholic. Hermione knew that there had been a time where she would have gone to him, her voice laced with concern as she asked if he was alright. But those times were long past, and the distance between them felt as wide as a chasm.

"You look well," he said finally.

"How is everyone?" she asked.

Kingsley nodded toward the door, where she saw a large envelope stuck to it. "Ron wrote you, and he said to send his best."

"And...Harry?"

Kingsley hesitated. "He is as well as can be expected."

Hermione let out a shaky breath, hearing the things he had left unsaid. She could still practically feel the weight of her betrayal reflected in Harry's eyes, and her heart clenched at the reminder.

"He knows that your mission is integral, Hermione," he said. "Worry not for him."

"Will you give him this for me?" she said, handing him the notes she'd made on Horcruxes that had been charmed for Harry and Ron's eyes only. "It's important."

Kingsley nodded. "He informed us that he and Ronald must continue the mission they've been entrusted with by Dumbledore, so they have been in and out of the safe houses for some time now."

She nodded solemnly, swallowing back the painful throb in her chest. "And the rest of the Order?"

"We've all relocated to the safe houses."

"I see," Hermione said, shuffling awkwardly as the man offered no further information and instead turned to walk away yet again.

"Is that all, then?" her voice was stiff as she watched the man pause, his shoulders tense.

"Yes," he answered. "There are other things I must attend to."

Hermione choked out a sound that lay somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Is that what I am now? One more insignificant thing somewhere on your list?"

Kingsley looked away, and she spotted a scar that ran down the side of his neck, the puckered line standing out sharply against his ebony skin. "The bodies of Saoirse and David Finnegan turned up at St. Mungo's a few nights ago, along with three Death Eaters that had been obliviated to the point of infancy," he said. "You have done well." His voice was almost robotic, perverse in the way that he congratulated her for what basically constituted murder. Her heart twisted at the thought, reminding her that she had committed the literal act of murder as well.

"Her veins were black," her voice was barely a whisper, but she knew that Kingsley had heard her. "When I saw her, I knew it was too late— that I couldn't save her. But still, I wanted to try."

Kingsley said nothing, but continued to watch her in stoic silence.

"They killed her anyway," she spat. "And later, in my dreams, all I could see was the peculiar way her blackened veins stood out so sharply against her pale skin. I didn't have to time to stop then, to even fully register it at the time, but after...afterwards, it was all I saw. So I looked it up. They'd cursed her — they cursed her with something so dark, so vile, that she had been slowly rotting until it reached her heart. Her husband was already dead when I got there. Probably long dead, because that is what they do — what they will do if they ever find me." Her voice shook with her pain and rage as she wished to banish the memories from her mind, but knowing that they would be there forever.

"There are sacrifices we all must make," Kingsley said, his words eerily reminiscent of the words she'd heard from Dumbledore months prior.

And just like back then, the words made the rage in that bubbled within her boil over, her words spilling out of her hotly before she could think of reigning them in. "Damn you," she spat. "Damn you, and damn the Order for what you've made me into. Dumbledore orchestrated this scheme, lured me in under false pretenses of securing a spy when this" — she clutched her chest as her heart stuttered at the thought of all that had transpired thus far — "this is what he really wanted. Two assassins, ready to do the Order's bidding," she spat.

"This is war," Kingsley answered simply.

"I know that this is war!" she shouted back. "It is war, so we have to win, or we will die. Yet there are many, many things that are worse than death. We have to— we have to kill, or be killed," her voice broke. "And that's what I've done — what you've forced me into because you know that I truly understand the stakes and wouldn't refuse no matter how desperately I wanted to. I know that binding myself to Malfoy was the best course of action to secure Narcissa's allegiance, just as well as I know that we had to do what we did to those Death Eaters. It could have been my parents in the place of Seamus'. It could have been me, me and my husband, and he would have been tortured to the brink of death all whilst slowly rotting from within because of my blood status. I know, Kingsley. I know it all, just like I know that the part of me that regrets slashing that Death Eater across the throat when I could have wounded him anywhere else is nowhere near as regretful as it would have been only months ago. I have lost myself to this war, and much of it boils down to what you and Moody and even" —she choked on the name— "McGonagall have forced me into. So that— that is why I am almost certain that I hate you."

Kingsley remained silent, as stoic as ever in the silence that followed her words that was pierced only by her heaving breaths. "Just as you said, you win or you die, Hermione," Kingsley said finally. "Remember that." He turned and took the last few steps to the tree line before disapparating, leaving Hermione alone.

She whirled and stormed back into the cabin, slamming the door behind her. Malfoy was seated at the small dining table, a mug of tea paused at his lips as he appraised her.

"Is crying all you're capable of?" he said, taking a long sip of his tea.

She raised a hand and touched her wet cheek, not having noticed the angry tears that had spilled there.

"The night we got married," she said, her voice still shaky, "—or even before then, did you know what Dumbledore had planned? Did you know that it would all lead to — this?" she said, gesturing sharply around them.

His lips thinned into a hard line. "You have always clung to foolish notions, but even I didn't peg you to be as blind of a fool as Potter."

Hermione stalked over to the table and slammed an open palm down on it, glaring at him. "Did you know?!"

He glared back at her, his grey eyes sharpening. "He visited the Manor once," he answered, offering no additional information.

"When?"

"Last summer," his teeth were gritted as he responded, still glaring at her.

She stumbled backward, her mind reeling under the weight of his words. "Last summer? Did your mother—"

Malfoy stood and was upon her in a flash. "He came to the Manor, offering aid of some kind. I overheard nothing more, but have always had an inkling that visit" —his voice was dark— "lead her to choose this. And that is all, Granger. You trust Potter, Dumbledore, the whole bloody Order too much. You need to stop fighting blindly for them and use that supposedly-bright mind of yours to think," he added with a scoff.

"This is not just about them! It's also about all muggleborns, our rights, our lives—"

"You still could have said no, could have told them to piss off and continued on your little crusade—"

"You know that I couldn't have said no!"

"Yes, you could have!"

"If I hadn't, your mother would never have agreed to be a spy—"

"She was desperate Granger!" he snapped.

His words made her pause momentarily as she recalled that night, remembering how the woman had been ever the picture of elegant perfection, not a hair out of place. Hermione had caught only a hint of fear in the woman's eyes as she'd watched her carefully, but she did not doubt that the woman's careful display of vulnerability had been intended to sway her more so than it had been an unintentional drop in her facade. And even if Malfoy's words were true, Hermione recalled the knowing, calculating glint in Dumbledore's eyes. Deep inside, she knew that even if she had tried to refuse, Dumbledore would have continued to maneuver them like chess pieces until they'd ended up exactly where he wanted them to be. And...

Even beyond that, there was a deeper truth that Malfoy was probing at that bubbled near the surface of her thoughts, threatening to burst forth. He knew it, too — could probably feel her turmoil as it drew dangerously close to spilling from her lips — and she could see it reflected in the angry glimmer in his stormy grey eyes.

"You knew it! We all knew it!" Malfoy continued. "So why did you agree?"

And with that, the truth she had been trying to suppress and deny for so long burst forth, tumbling from her lips before she could attempt to force them shut. "I did it for you!" she shouted.

The silence left in the wake of her words was so deafening that it felt as though it had sucked out every sound in the room, save for her racing heartbeat which echoed loudly in her ears.

"I did it because—" she swallowed, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment before she opened them again, forcing herself to face him, "—I did it because even though I didn't like you, I thought you were worth saving."

"Why?" his voice was low and gruff when he finally spoke.

"All these years...everything with you has been about your father, about pleasing him. But I know...I know how twisted he is, and I thought that you deserved to be free of his shadow. It was why I spent most of the school year trying to convince Harry that you weren't trying to kill anyone, that you weren't a part of any of this as much as subject to it because you deserve at least that much. When Dumbledore asked this of me, I realized that I — that this — could be your second chance." The words that had sat deep in her heart that she'd quelled to a whisper drifted free, the truth now hanging in the air between them despite her long denial of it.

"I never asked for your pity, Granger."

His eyes were stormy, swimming with a dark intensity as he loomed over her, his taller, broader frame feeling like an eclipse. She knew that he wanted her to shrink away under his intimidating stature, but she instead found herself leaning closer into him. He was tense and frozen even when her head finally met his chest, and her arms snaked carefully, gently, around his waist. He did not move when she whispered her next words, either: "It was never pity. I just cared."

She'd pressed her head to his chest for but a few seconds more until he pulled away abruptly, stalking over to the front door. His hand clenched the doorknob tightly as he wrenched it open, and he twisted slightly to spit out one word:

"Don't."

X

It was late, and Hermione was sitting on the edge of her bed, the single letter she'd received from Ron lay on the bed beside her, unopened. She had brought in the letters that had remained tacked on the door long after Malfoy had gone through it, leaving the few he'd received from his mother on the coffee table. The small envelope shone like a beacon to her even in the soft moonlight that drifted in through the window, and she looked at it with mounting trepidation, wondering what it held. There was a small, firm lump that bulged in the envelope, and she wondered if it held a letter at all — perhaps it instead held a single token that encompassed his rejection, his permanent severing of her from his life. She wouldn't blame him if that was it.

She took a deep, shaky breath before she tugged it open, sighing in relief when she spotted a piece of parchment within. You will always be my best friend, it read in Ron's familiar messy script. It just wasn't our time. Be safe.

Hermione tipped the open envelope into her palm to find the small vial of the remnants of Harry's Felix Felicis they hadn't ended up using that night in the castle when everything — everything — had changed. And with that, Hermione clutched the contents to her chest and sobbed, clutching the letter close even as she climbed into bed.

For the first time in weeks, she did not dream.

Every review means the world to me.

As a reminder, for updates on my writing progress, you can check my tumblr (blankfishxx) or my Facebook (Blank Fish). I also have a Discord sever that you can join: (remove all *'s, of course): h*t*tps*:*/*discord*.g*g/*GH6N7Sn.

Again, thank you all for the love and your patience. And yes, I couldn't help the Game of Thrones easter egg, hahaha — fitting, isn't it?