Thank you all for your patience in waiting for this chapter. When I initially announced my hiatus a few months back, I hoped I was being liberal by estimating things would go back to normal by August. That unfortunately did not turn out to be the case. If there's anything I've learned during this time, it's that things can go from bad to so much worse in an instant. I can't even begin to describe how tumultuous of a time it has been recently, but the words of support I've received from so many of you mean the world to me. Writing has always and will always be a release for me, but please bear with me while I slowly pick back up to where my update schedule was before. I can't announce a definitive end to my slowed schedule for now, but thank you for being so patient.
In other news, I am happy to announce that I now have a second beta — Jamethiel! She has a fantastic track record and RESimon and I are excited to have her on board for the rest of this fic. A huge thank you goes out to both of them for their work on this chapter.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When Hermione woke, she was alone.
She sat up, running a hand over the empty space where Malfoy had been lying. There was no sign that he had been there at all; a direct contrast to the way the feeling of his warm body sliding into bed behind her had felt only hours ago. She couldn't banish the memory of his radiating warmth behind her, nor memory of the way his hand had felt under hers as she'd guided it to her hip. She'd felt his intentions although he did not voice them. Her skin still tingled where she'd slid their intertwined hands up her thigh, taking her nightgown up with it, and revealing how she was bare underneath. It was only a moment before she'd felt his bare length pressing forward at her entrance. He'd slid inside with ease, setting the pace in a slow grind until she'd turned her head into her pillow, gasping and moaning into it until she'd rubbed herself to completion shortly before he'd shuddered out his own release. She'd managed to keep her eyes from drooping closed only long enough to whisper a quick contraceptive spell before she'd succumbed to the pull of slumber.
Her hand rested on the now-cold space his body had occupied, knowing that the memory of him was seared into the sheets despite the fact that no evidence of his presence remained. She didn't know what she'd expected but couldn't deny that the room felt colder and emptier on this particular morning. It contrasted sharply against the distinct wet stickiness that remained between her thighs; the only evidence that she'd had a companion at all. It was the second morning in a row that she'd woken feeling this way, and the throbbing ache his thickness left behind in her felt more pronounced each time.
When she finally emerged from the bedroom, she found the cabin empty. The only sign he'd been there at all was a plate of food that sat out on the table for her, charmed for warmth. She let her eyes rest on the sofa, noting the signs that he had indeed slept there the previous evening.
With a final look around the empty cabin, she turned and went into the bathroom, determined to wash away as much of what troubled her as she could.
X
When he'd finally returned that evening, he'd paused to look at her when she greeted him. The minute she'd met his eyes, she'd recognized the same shuttered look she'd grown accustomed to. Gone was the raw openness of the day before, buried deep under the barriers he rarely let down. He'd finally answered her greeting with a grunt before he'd settled himself on the couch with his own tomes scattered around him. The distance he'd put between them felt wider than a chasm. She often found herself watching him until his eyes would meet hers, and she'd look away quickly, unable to meet the hard look she often found in them. This time there was no coldness, no indifference, no unambiguous dismissal of her — just... nothing. Not a movement in acknowledgment was made, and he carried on as though as was as it had been before.
Two weeks passed before they slept together again.
They'd been sparring in the middle of the main room, dancing around each other in a way that deliberately left a constant distance between them, thick with the tension that had yet to dissipate. They'd been stalking around each other in a tense circle, shooting spells at each other with intense precision. The circle had slowly started to tighten, drawing them dangerously close together until they'd been at a mere arm's length from each other. After that, everything had occurred in a blur — one moment they were surrounded in an explosion of light, and the next it had felt as though they were literally aflame, a mass of heated tension as they'd all but torn each others' clothing off. This time, he'd taken the time only to tear open a wide hole in her leggings while she'd quickly vanished her knickers, leaving herself bare and open for him. He'd then deposited her roughly upon the countertop before plunging into her. There was no drawing out their pleasure, only frenzied gasps and grunts as they sped towards their mutual release. It was over in minutes, and he disappeared into the bathroom before she could catch her breath.
After that, they began sparring outside.
Outside they were more careful not to let their stray spells damage the multitude of wards that had been erected around the cabin. Their sparring had become more intricate as time passed, and they now met each others' moves equally. Despite the chill, she would grow sweaty quickly, all the while ignoring all of the conflicting emotions that pulsed within her. He widened the distance further for every accidental slip either of them made, the tense air between them feeling more taut with each step.
No matter how much distance he attempted to put between them, she couldn't escape. Impressions of what'd they'd done permeated their environment, drawing her focus at every turn. She would be eating at the dining table when her eyes would land upon that spot on the wooden floor, and she would suddenly be flooded with memories of the way he'd taken her roughly in that very spot. She would catch him after he'd just emerged from the shower, surreptitiously watching the rivulets of water slowly descending into his towel until he'd catch her staring yet again.
It was undeniable that he was everywhere, and what they'd done was everywhere, too.
X
They'd been sparring on the grass for the past hour. The fall air was chilly on her skin, the trees around them having turned the forest's canopy into a sea of muted oranges and reds. For every step she took forward, he took one back, keeping the tense air between them taut. He was little more than a wingspan away, yet she could not deny that it felt much further.
She realized a second too late that she'd let her thoughts drift again, and she ducked to dodge the spell he had aimed at her. She scrambled for purchase on the dew-slickened grass to no avail and found herself barrelling into him, taking him down to the ground with her until they landed in a heap. She met his eyes for a long beat, unable to ignore the way their breaths mingled.
A second later they were upon each other, their kisses hot and hungry as they pulled at each others' clothing. It was only when he'd pulled off her jeans and knickers and had muttered a quick lubrication charm that she'd forced herself to place a hand on his chest, stopping him.
"I— can't." She forced the words out despite the pulsing need at the apex of her thighs and how near he was. Had she shifted just a fraction, he would have slipped inside easily.
He had frozen atop her, his pupils still blown with lust.
"My period," she explained.
She watched as his expression shuttered closed, melting into the cold, hard mask she'd grown accustomed to. He'd tucked himself away and gone back inside before she'd barely moved.
It wasn't until a few weeks later that she realized he was drowning in the after, too.
What were they, beyond their circumstances? She had found herself unable to take off her wedding ring despite the fact that it represented nothing. The intricate, glittering piece of jewelry served only to emphasize how much of a caricature their relationship was. After all of this, what would they be? It was true that they would be husband and wife for the rest of their lives, but that title was only in the strictest sense of the word. Even now, she could not even say that they were friends, let alone lovers. They were… nothing. Simply adversaries forced to co-exist in these tenuous circumstances — near-strangers who went to one another only for release.
For them, there was no after.
He would go. He would leave the second they were free from the suffocating clutches of this war, leading a life that would be seemingly completely unconnected from her own until they one day dropped dead simultaneously. She sat up in bed, rubbing her hands along the goosebumps that seemed to have permanently etched themselves into her skin. The full moon shone brightly through the window — the only source of light besides the sliver that shone through the door that she had yet to be able to fully close.
If she had the choice to return to Harry and Ron and be welcomed with open arms, would she? She thought of the stirring of something that she'd undeniably begun to feel for Malfoy. The thought roused a telltale lurch in her stomach. The feeling was equal parts queasiness and something else that hovered below it, persisting like an itch that she couldn't quite scratch or spell away. It was true that they had both consigned themselves to a life without intimacy with anyone but one another. When they'd made the bargain, it had been shrouded in an undercurrent of if. Neither had expected to survive this war although they never said so. If they somehow did — foregoing physical intimacy with another would be a small sacrifice.
Yes, it was best that they ended whatever this was now and focused on surviving this war, if only long enough to save their loved ones. That was their mission — not each other.
The next time they dueled in the morning dew, it was Hermione who charmed them until she was certain they wouldn't slip again.
X
They fell back into the routine they'd had before. The only apparent change was the way they both steadily avoided even a step too close. He'd taken to doing his research on the dining table while she'd stayed at the desk. The Order called them only a couple of times. Those missions had mostly lead to dead ends; scattered bodies speaking of the horrors that had occurred before the Death Eaters had abandoned the scene.
One evening, Hermione sat at the desk, tracing the scorch marks the charmed coin had left scattered across the desk. Each mission had taken something unexplainable out of her, hardening her further against the carnage. Visions of the mangled bodies she'd seen on missions no longer tore her out of her sleep screaming. Instead, they began prowling the moment she let her eyes flutter shut, lurking until she'd been forced to reach into their small store of potions to take Dreamless Sleep when she could no longer bear it. In her waking hours, she practiced filing the images away, vainly hoping that they would someday begin to stay that way while she dreamed.
As if on cue, the coin began to burn, raising a ring of smoke around where it lay on the desk. Her heart dropped as she watched it for a moment, desperately wanting to ignore it. The visions of all the bodies they'd seen plagued her mind in a torrent, and she forced back her pain.
"Malfoy." She hadn't called him by his first name since the last time they'd nearly slept together. The distance of forming the word felt all too fitting now.
She hadn't needed to say what she'd called him for. He crossed over, reading the coordinates on the coin quickly. "It's in London." He pointed at the spot he'd marked on the map.
They hadn't been anywhere populated on a single mission they'd been on. She recalled the last time she'd been in London, in the sprawling hotel suite with a windowed wall that had overlooked the city. Looking at Malfoy now, she saw the same hard look in his eyes that she'd seen then, knowing that he, too, was burying all they'd seen beneath his own Occlumency walls.
She looked closer at the map, realizing with a chill that she knew the area very well. The Death Eaters were getting bolder. "It's not far from—"
"Diagon Alley," Malfoy finished for her.
X
They arrived in minutes, having only paused to glamour Malfoy with a few quick, sloppy gestures before departing. His hair had come out bright red, but was presently covered by his large cloak that was barely visible in the darkness. They heard laughter echoing down the alleyway, and her hand trembled as she heard screams follow it. They quickened their pace, and she pressed close to him while they rushed toward the mouth of the alley they'd apparated into.
The attackers were upon them in an instant.
A spell struck Hermione in the arm. Pain blossomed in its wake, and she cried out. She flung out a spell at her attacker before striking one of the two that had descended upon Malfoy in the back.
Carnage lay before them.
A pile of broken bodies were scattered in the street. The clothing on the corpses ranged from robes to Muggle clothing alike. Hermione managed only to choke out a horrified gasp before several streaks of light lit the air as a multitude of curses shot towards her. Her shield absorbed only one curse; Malfoy's shield got the rest. The air filled with the pops of apparition as the Death Eaters scattered around them started disappearing.
She charged forward, throwing curses at as many of the rapidly disappearing figures as she could. Most missed their mark, fizzling out into the night as their targets disappeared. A hand clamped down on her arm, and she shot a hex at it that made the man's skin bubble. She left his screams in her wake as she continued to run forward, her trainers pounding on the pavement. She spotted Malfoy dueling with two men ahead and quickly threw a spell that grazed one of Malfoy's attacker's ears, causing blood to begin gushing from the wound. Before she could cast another hex, she heard a scream. She stopped in her tracks, whipping toward the sound.
It was a Muggle woman.
She was bleeding from the mouth even as she choked out strangled shrieks. Her blonde hair was matted with more blood, the crimson liquid almost glittering in the moonlight that shone on the pavement. Hermione made it only a few steps toward her before a boot mashed down on the woman's head. Her screams increased in pitch as the boot dug deeper into her cheek, and Hermione raised her eyes to stare at the wizard. His mouth was curved in a smirk, and he lowered his wand to point it at the woman's head.
Hermione's mouth opened in a frozen scream. She tried to raise her wand, only for a set of arms to clamp around her, trapping her arms to her body. The last thing she saw as she was wrenched backward was a flash of green light that connected with the woman's skull, cutting off her strangled screams.
"I remember you, bitch," the man who'd grabbed her said in her ear. "I'm goi—"
His words were cut off as she reared her head back and smashed it into his skull. His grip loosened just enough for her to twist her wand and press it into his thigh, feeling his blood soak her trousers as it spurted from the wound.
Not a second later, the man crumpled to the ground. She whirled to find Malfoy behind them, his wand still pointed at where the Wizard had stood. Spells continued to light up the air around them, and she managed only to snatch Malfoy's sleeve before they, too, disappeared.
They landed in the bedroom of their cabin. Hermione's heart was still racing, and she still gripped his hand hard. "What is happening, Malfoy? What is their purpose? Why do they keep—"
"It's war, Granger." His voice was stiff. "There is no purpose to any of it — their goal is destruction. Nothing more — or less."
Hermione looked down at where the man's blood still trickled down her trainers, leaving several droplets on the bedroom floor.
"We can let the Order remove the bodies — " Malfoy stopped short as she bent down and began siphoning the blood from her clothes into a vial she'd summoned from the main room. "What are you doing?"
She ignored him, rushing out of the bedroom and over to the desk where she scattered her research notes until she found the page she had been searching for.
"Fresh blood," she mumbled to herself as she held up the vial of swirling liquid in the light. "That was it."
"That was what, Granger?" Malfoy had followed behind her, and she turned to see him staring at the vial with an unreadable expression on his face.
"I think — I think I can track them."
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