Thank you all for your patience. I'm writing through a hand injury and it has been incredibly difficult of late, but I'm on the road to recovery and hope to speed up my posting schedule soon.

So much love goes out to RESimon for betaing this chapter. I'd also like to announce that shestoolazytologin is now officially my alpha for this fic and beyond! I'm so grateful to both of them for all of their help. Also, a special thank you goes out to Jamethiel for her help thus far - she's had to take a hiatus due to her busy schedule, but I'm so grateful for all of her work thus far.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Hermione clutched Malfoy's hand tightly. She could see the puffs of her breaths in the cool night air, but it did not stop them from continuing to sharpen. The Lestrange Estate was an imposing structure that was made up of dark, sprawling towers dotted with blackened windows. Dark vines curled around the structure, adding to its imposing aura. The grounds were shrouded in shadow from the forest that loomed around them. It made Hermione feel almost claustrophobic despite the extent the lands sprawled before them.

"Come," Malfoy's voice broke through her thoughts. "I've checked the wards. She hasn't rescinded Malfoy access."

She swallowed and nodded at him, feeling unable to find her voice. When he started to move forward, he paused as he tried to pull her with him only to find her firmly planted where she stood.

"Granger." He stepped back toward her. "Look at me."

She'd barely noticed that he was but a spot in her periphery until his fingers on her chin forced her to look at him. She swallowed again and stole another glance at the estate that stood behind them before she met his eyes.

"Granger." His voice was soft. The gentleness in his tone gave her pause, and she found herself focusing on the flicker of concern in his grey eyes. It was slight, but it was there nonetheless.

"I'm scared," she said when she found her voice. "The wards— they don't— what if they won't let me in?"

His expression hardened as he looked briefly at the estate before he turned back to her. "They will."

His words did nothing to calm the growing tightness in her chest. "I'm not a pureblood, Draco." she swallowed and looked away. "I've read about it. I know what kinds of magic they would weave into wards to make sure no one of...impure status would be able to breach them. The vile, painful deaths those they deemed unworthy would endure for even trying—"

His finger on her lips stopped her rambling. She watched as his free hand reached down to catch hers. He lifted her left hand into the air, and with a soft brush of magic against her skin her glamoured wedding ring appeared. "Malfoy blood runs through your veins now," he said. "Even a hint of it would let you pass. The wards will not harm you. I swear it."

His eyes burned with his promise as much as his words did, and she found herself nodding almost instantly. This time, when he tugged her hand forward she followed. Her steps were tentative the more steps they took. Her heart raced as she felt the inkling that he'd been wrong growing as they stepped closer to the outskirts of the estate.

"We're through," he said, breaking the silence.

She let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"She hasn't modified the Apparition wards either since she granted me access last summer. I'm going to Apparate us inside, alright?"

He met her eyes and waited until she squeezed his hand and gave him a gentle nod. His touch was soft yet firm when he placed a hand on her back and drew her close. She squeezed her eyes closed and when she opened them a moment later they were inside a dark, cavernous hall.

"I've cast notice-me-not charms as a precaution, but stay close," he said. His voice was low, but echoed around them nonetheless.

She stepped away from Malfoy and looked around. There were high, vaulted ceilings above them that stretched down to tall windows on one side that showcased the darkened grounds outside. On the other side of the room, tall, intricately carved sculptures of sinister-looking creatures loomed over them. As they hurried past, Hermione carefully avoided their glittering onyx eyes that seemed to follow her every movement.

They went down another winding hallway, their way lit only by the dim light at the tip of Malfoy's wand. When they turned into another room, Hermione paused.

The room was filled with timeless art pieces that were carved of metals and other materials that ranged from gleaming bronze to a near-depthless onyx. All featured sinister creatures that were somehow still beautiful despite the cruelty that swathed them. The walls were covered with paintings and tapestries depicting dark scenes that featured participants engaging in acts Hermione did not let her eyes linger on. She'd once thought of Malfoy's beauty as a cruel beauty, but his pale blond head moving among the shadows looked almost ethereal compared to the looming statues around them. She stayed close behind him as he moved, shivering as she felt the brush of dark magic lingering in the air around them. He navigated through the room with ease, moving with a focused purpose.

She sensed it before they stopped. Subtle, pulsing magic curled through the quiet air. It neither beckoned nor repelled them, but the quiet of it thrummed through her unbidden, making its presence known. Her fingers automatically caught his as she stopped beside him.

A bust stood mounted on a pedestal before them. It was subtle compared to the sprawling sculptures and intricately carved vases around it, yet its meaning was unmistakable. It was a carving of the same disfigured face she'd seen flying alongside her and Kingsley in the sky the night they'd retrieved Harry from his home. The same snake-like features that had often played a central role in her nightmares since.

"She's sick," Hermione breathed, unable to tear her eyes from Voldemort's head that was perfectly captured in gleaming black marble before them. The pedestal it sat upon was carved, interwoven snakes that undulated in a pattern that was at one mesmerizing and unsettling.

Malfoy did not answer, but she saw the same tension she felt within herself rolling off of him in waves. The bust was not displayed prominently, yet Hermione could feel the way the energy in the room shifted towards it. She'd felt it since they'd entered the room, but it wasn't until now that she'd been able to place the feeling.

They stood before it for a tense moment. The dark magic that seeped off the bust like a fog felt akin to a shadow looming at the back of her mind, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered how it would make them feel if they had to be around it for much longer than this—

"Your bag," Malfoy interrupted her thoughts. He was looking down at the charmed satchel that hung over her hip.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes, I…" She hesitated as she pulled the satchel open. Now that she stood beside him, she could see the way his eyebrows were pulled together. The deep crease between them was the only outward sign of the stress that she knew roiled within him.

She closed a hand over one of his clenched fists. "Let me do it," she said.

She waited until he unclenched his jaw. "I checked it," he said when he managed to speak, "there aren't any...unsavory wards on it."

Aside from what's contained within, she added silently.

She held open her satchel as she stepped closer to the bust. The trickle of magic she'd felt rose to a hum as she drew closer to it, and when her fingers hovered over the surface she could feel the way it was eager to seep into her skin.

When she picked it up, she felt it calling to her. It clawed at the memories and feelings she kept folded away in the deepest recesses of her mind, seeking—

She shoved the bust in the satchel and felt its sinister energy fall into the confines of the bag. Her arm felt weak as she pressed the bag closed, and she stumbled. She barely caught herself from falling by steadying herself with the pedestal before her.

She realized her mistake when she heard Malfoy's sharp intake of breath.

She met his wide eyes a fraction of a second before she looked down to see the snakes that had been coiled around the pedestal slithering toward her. He'd checked the bust. But not the pedestal itself.

You would dare taint us with your filthy blood? She stumbled back, but the dark hiss continued to echo in her head. Your blood is not worthy of being spilled upon us. Even death is unworthy—

Hermione clapped her hands over her ears, but it did nothing to quell the angry hisses of the snakes as they slid from the pedestal and followed her. Malfoy moved in front of her then, so quickly that it took her a moment to register what was happening. He latched onto her with an iron grip, shielding her with his body while he brandished his wand at the snakes.

Before she could open her mouth to form a scream, she watched as a snake lunged forward and he only barely managed to repel it. Others followed as quickly as the first, their movements lightning fast as they set upon their target. He slashed at them as they lunged, and some burst into shards of glittering onyx while others simply recoiled before lunging again. Hermione ripped her wand out of where she'd stashed it in her pocket, gripping it tightly as she pictured their next destination.

Then she squeezed her eyes shut and Apparated them away.

X

They reappeared on a snowy riverbank in almost complete darkness, despite the full moon glittering off the water's surface and Malfoy's bright blonde hair. She could not even make out the outline of her own dark skin until she rested her hand upon his head, where it stopped the light from continuing to catch the silvery locks beneath it.

"Draco?" She ran tentative fingers through his hair. "Are you alright?"

He didn't respond for a moment, remaining hunched over and tense. "I'm fine," he answered.

Hermione paused, hesitating. "Are you sure you're al—"

"Just— get rid of it." His voice was as sharp as ever although he did not move from where he was crouched upon the ground.

She hesitated again before she nodded. "Alright," she said when she remembered he couldn't see her.

She transfigured a makeshift raft out of a broken branch she found upon the ground before she took out the bust and set it down upon the raft. She was careful to handle the Horcrux by keeping her hands fully covered with the fabric of her bag, but it did nothing to quell the dark magic she felt leaking from it.

She waited for it to float a good ways away before she cast a jet of fiendfyre at it. It exploded from the tip of her wand, forming the shape of a falcon. The moment it hit the horcrux, a piercing screech filled the night air. Hermione fell to her knees with her hands clasped over her ears, It did little to quell the grating sound, and it felt like minutes had passed before it ended when in reality it had been mere seconds. It did end, though, and she was quick to put out the fire that lingered, ready to consume everything in its wake.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Hermione stood, breathing heavily as she looked at the peace that remained in the wake of the chaos. "It's over," she said. "We—"

She stopped short as she turned fully to Malfoy, only to see him sprawled upon the ground, unconscious.

"Draco!" Her scream pierced the silence. She threw herself down beside him, using the dim light from her wand to analyze him. She realized he wasn't unconscious, but he was letting out short, shallow breaths and his skin had somehow managed to pale further.

"I'm...not dying." His voice came out in a wheeze.

It took a moment for Hermione to realize he was correct — she didn't feel the same piercing cold she had the day he had almost died. Still, she was not comforted by this — not when he lay so unnaturally still before her, struggling for each breath.

She Apparated them back to their cabin and quickly spelled off his top layer of clothing. When his right leg was uncovered, she gasped at what she saw. He was bleeding steadily from several wounds scattered along his leg, and she could see a misty grey curse lingering just beneath the surface of his skin.

"Draco, please, talk to me, tell me where else it hurts—" She ran desperate hands over his body as she watched his expression carefully, searching for any other signs of injury.

"I contained it...to my leg," he said through gritted teeth. He was sweating visibly, and she cast several cooling charms over him to quell it.

"We need to get you help," she said, already thinking of the safe house location Kingsley had disclosed to her. She could Apparate them there, but she hadn't been there before. She searched her find frantically for anywhere in the area that she remembered, but she knew that anywhere she could think of would likely be far, too far—

She scrambled for the desk and ripped open the drawer that held the pouch of remaining portkeys to St. Mungos. Beyond it was a much smaller pouch that contained only a single portkey, marked with a simple tag: For emergencies only. She took the pouch and ran back to where her husband lay, still taking harsh, shallow breaths. The mist had already started crawling up from his calf to his knee.

Her fingers fumbled as she tried to undo the drawstring of the pouch. As she started to pull it open, she was stopped by a hand on her forearm.

"No," he rasped. "We can't."

"It's an emergency, Draco, we have to—"

"No." His voice was more firm. "Too many already know about us."

Hermione swallowed thickly. Their bond was already kept on a strictly need-to-know basis. McGonagall, Kingsley, Moody...and Snape. Snape's allegiances were already unknown, and she was certain that his skills as an expert legilimens were the only reason that Voldemort had not yet discovered the truth about Malfoy's disappearance. The more who knew, the higher the risk was that the truth would be uncovered were anyone to be captured. If the truth came out, then—

"My...mother," Malfoy said. "I can't let them find out about her."

His mother… the war. Narcissa was likely the Order's most valuable asset. If they lost her…

"Tell me how to heal you," she said, tears springing to her eyes. "I don't— I don't know enough about healing, you'll have to guide me. But— but I think..." Her next words died in the air between them as she looked down at the curse that was spreading up his leg. They didn't have the resources to reverse this kind of curse, and one look into his eyes told her that he knew the same.

"You'll have to…" he coughed and wheezed, "You'll have to cut it off."

Her tears started leaking freely. "I can't, Draco, I can't—"

"You can." He reached up slowly until his fingers brushed against her cheek. The touch lasted for a breath of a moment before his hand dropped weakly to his side. "You're...bloody Granger."

More tears leaked down her cheeks as he wheezed and let out a sharp breath.

Hermione looked down at where the misty grey cruse continued to creep up his skin. "Let's go. We can use the portkey. Maybe we'll run into Kingsley, or Mc…" she trailed off as he shook his head again.

"The risk is too high," he said.

"You know healing well," she said. "I don't know enough." Her voice grew smaller with her admission. At that moment, it felt like a fatal flaw. She'd always been able to find a way, but now her desperation was centered on one thing that she'd always known she could only learn so much about from books.

"I'll guide you."

"You know healing," she repeated. "I don't."

He placed his hand over where hers was braced on his chest. "You have to listen carefully, because if I pass out from the pain—"

"Draco, please."

He shook his head again. "Just do it. I'll…" his voice trailed off as he gasped in pain.

She looked down at where his hand covered hers. The pressure of his weakened fingers was light upon hers, resting upon her wedding ring. She revealed it with a brush of magic, watching the way it never ceased to glimmer with its own inherent light. She thought of the woman who'd worn the ring before her, desperately seeking a solution to save the man beneath her—

She gave his arm a last look before she took a deep breath and shouted: "Kreacher!"

There was a loud crack as the house-elf appeared. He sneered at Hermione. "The mudblood calls and I must be answering," he said, his eyes narrowing in disgust as he slowly looked her up and down.

"Fuck...you," Malfoy's voice was weak.

Hermione glared steadily at the elf. "I know that you're aware of my marriage," she said. "And you are bound to the Black family, which means you are bound to my husband — and to me." She stepped closer to the elf until she loomed over him, forcing him to look up as her shadow eclipsed him. "Your loyalty may have been given to Harry by Sirius, but you are still bound in blood to us. I know enough about elf magic to know this."

Kreacher's lip curled. "Filthy, filthy—"

Hermione cut him off. "You have power I do not fully comprehend, and much more knowledge than you let on," she said, holding her chin high. "So I command you to save him. Now."

The elf gave her another reproachful glare before he moved before Malfoy. He waved a hand over Malfoy's infected leg and Malfoy jerked. Hermione crossed to Malfoy's other side and took up his hand. It was cold and clammy in hers, but he wasn't dying. He wasn't dying, and she had to hold on to that.

She watched Kreacher work, cringing each time Malfoy convulsed in pain. "Draco," would whisper. "Stay with us. You'll be alright." She didn't ask Kreacher if her words were true or not.

Eventually, Malfoy slept. Kreacher continued to work, and by the time he finished, morning light had begun to trickle through the windows. Kreacher levitated Malfoy to the bed and wrapped Malfoy's leg in a long bandage Hermione handed to him.

"Will he lose his leg?" Hermione spoke her first words in hours, and her throat croaked.

"We is not knowing. Master must rest." Kreacher said simply before he vanished.

Resigned, Hermione set to waiting.

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