I said a week and took a month. I'm so sorry - an unexpected illness threw me off for much longer than anticipated. Thank you all so very much for being so patient - I love my fics dearly and would never abandon them, but can get slow due to my hand issues and whatever unexpected events that may pop up. Thank you all for following this long - I love you all.

As always, so much love goes out to my beta/alpha, RESimon and shestoolazytologin.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Hermione listened to the steady rhythm of Draco's heartbeat through his shirt, her head pillowed to his chest. One of his hands played absently in her hair while the other held her to his side.

It had been hours, surely. The room had long since darkened as the daylight fled, its few furnishings, now shrouded in shadow, served as an inconsequential measure of the time that had passed. They'd spent the day wrapped in the same position, shifting only for the most pressing of needs before they'd found themselves pulled back toward one another. She'd last risen to excuse herself to the loo, only to open the door and find Draco hovering outside of it, his expression dark and eyes wild as she pulled him into her. Words hadn't been exchanged, yet she'd poured her reassurances into her subsequent embrace, gently pushing him back toward the bed and climbing in beside him, pressing herself against him as completely as she could.

When he went to get them food, she found herself hovering as he had. There was a sickening tug deep in her stomach, lurching as the timeless void they'd been in for the day disappeared as he pulled the door closed behind him. In its wake was left an endless stretch of it, every second they'd let slip away in their solitude returning with a cold vengeance, the newfound emptiness leaving a seeping chill settling in her bones.

By the time she heard his footsteps approaching down the hall, she'd already been pulling open the door. He'd seen something in her expression — something that had him spelling the two plates that hovered before him to go land with a loud clatter upon the dresser as he gathered her in his arms. The emptiness she felt in his absence was indescribable until he returned and she suddenly felt wont to burst with all the words that tried to fit the sense of completion she felt in his arms while still falling short.

Had she always been this lost?

He had been seared into her somewhere, branded deep in her spirit. She'd thought the bond had created an inextricable force, his presence lingering in the back of her mind. But this—

This had been her doing. And his.

She hadn't known what it was like just to be held by him, and now she lamented the thought of him ever letting go. They'd exchanged few words, each speaking only briefly before they'd retreat into silence, holding each other until one — or both — of them drifted to sleep. Even unconscious, she'd kept herself pressed to him, and awoke to find his iron grip holding her even tighter as she shifted. Even now as she curled a tense hand in his shirt and tilted her head to look up at him, she found the reflection of all that pulsed within her reflected in his eyes.

She was surprised when he spoke first after hours of silence. "I would ask how you did it, but I'd nearly forgotten that we keep the potions next to the tea," he murmured.

She tore her eyes from his, her fist curling tighter in his shirt as she recalled the hasty decision she'd made that had upended their relationship. Regret throbbed in her chest, burning through her body as thoroughly as the memories of her betrayal.

His arm curled tighter around her, and her racing heartbeat immediately began to slow.

A long silence stretched before either of them spoke again. "How did you find me?" Her voice felt overly loud in the quiet room.

She felt the shift in his chest as he sucked in a breath before he answered. "Your spell," he answered. He let out a short puff of air that could have almost been mistaken for a laugh were it not for the hollowed emptiness of the sound. "You bled— all over my shirt."

She paused, her throat tangling around her breath as she thought of the panic of his discovery. Her blood soaking his shirt as he lay immobile, struggling to compute what had occurred. Her traitorous presence lingering at the back on his mind—

She froze.

"Did—" her throat grew tighter as she tried to speak the words, "did you feel it?"

His chest tensed and then dipped before he answered her tightly. "Yes."

Her stomach roiled and lurched as she scrambled to sit upright, her mind assaulted with images of the blinding pain—

Draco caught her by the shoulders, halting her movements. "Granger," he said, "stop."

"You felt—" she cut off, feeling her stomach lurch again as she recalled the inferno that had torn at her from within, burning and tearing as it threatened to consume her whole. Her muscles twitched and spasmed as the ghost of the assault haunted her, descending upon her unbidden and drowning her in the abyss once more—

"Granger!" Draco snapped. His hand was at her chin then, forcing it up until she looked at him. "Stop."

Her breaths were low and shallow as she tried to quell the roiling in her stomach and the spasms that radiated through her, focusing on the look in his deep grey eyes.

It took several tries for her to speak. "Draco—" The word was empty and broken when she finally spoke it, ringing with the searing pain of the memory.

Her hands fluttered and spasmed before her as she tried and failed to banish the memory of Bellatrix's manic eyes glittering with malice before the inferno hit her, drowning her in its embrace as it pulled her deeper, and deeper still—

Draco's hands caught her wrists this time, his touch gentler but just as firm as he held her hands in his. "Granger— it's over."

Her heart continued to flutter and pound in her chest as she looked back at him, struggling to suppress the lump that had risen in her throat. A long moment stretched between them before she felt the tensed, spasming muscles in her back start to relax. When she shifted forward, he searched her eyes for a moment before he let her hands fall from his grip.

Slowly, gently, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. She pressed herself close to him as her hands wrapped tighter, allowing herself to inhale his scent deeply as she did. "I— was so scared," she said, the lump in her throat swallowing the "for you" that was supposed to follow as she recalled how hard she'd chanted his name to herself, holding on tightly to the life that was no longer hers alone. "Were you?" she added softly.

There was a ripple through his form as he tensed for a moment before she felt his arms close around her back, closing the mere sliver of space that was left between them. "For you," he spoke into her hair after a moment.

Her chest tightened and contracted, and she let out a breathless sob as she buried her face in his neck, trying to ignore the way her fingers still trembled and spasmed.

She didn't know how much time passed before they found themselves in the same position they'd been in nearly the entire day once more, her curled into his side as he held her tightly to him, her fingers tracing lightly over his clothed chest.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, breaking the long silence.

She found herself feeling for the dip in his chest once more before he responded. "Survive," he said, his voice rigid.

"Long enough to kill her," Hermione added, finishing the words of their mission that had become so much more.

Her stomach hardened. There had been a part of her that had always known from the moment she'd said yes that she was plunging herself into the unknown, stepping into an uncertain future as she would try to navigate the marriage and the war that she'd swiftly and suddenly found herself in.

She entered it expecting sacrifice — sacrifice of her freedom, of relationship with Ron, of much of what she'd ever known. She'd held no affection for Draco at the time — only a desperate need to mitigate the inevitable destruction this war would affect upon them, even if it was just through securing an invaluable ally by way of bonding herself to one of the last people she would be able to save.

But Draco had somehow become the center of her existence, his very presence filling her with a desperate desire to survive. She wanted to live for this. For this and all of the moments like it to come, in a world where there was no more running, fighting, or hiding.

Draco shifting to look down at her pulled her out of her thoughts. What shone in his eyes made her realize that he'd felt all that she had gone through her mind at that moment, and her heart clenched as she raised her hands and ran them over his chest, eyes roving him as she memorized every part of him. How much time did they have before these moments would be gone forever, stolen and swallowed by the burdens of war?

"Granger." His voice was at once reassuring and saddening, leaving her feeling bereft within as she wondered how many more of these moments she had left with him. "Stop," he said, repeating his earlier words in a whisper.

She met his eyes once more and leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss.

X

A low rap on the door made Hermione stir, opening her eyes to find herself still curled into Draco's side. Dawn had barely begun to settle on the horizon, and the darkness had only just begun to fade. She moved to sit up and found Draco wide awake and doing the same, sliding out of the bed in a fluid movement.

There was another rap on the door. "Draco?" Andromeda's voice called.

It was strange, she realized, to hear his name being called by someone other than herself. The mere sound of it set her on edge, her body tensing as she watched him cross the room, wondering what would be requested of them.

Draco pulled open the door. Andromeda stood outside with a small, strained smile on her features. "I've come to speak with Hermione, actually," she said, peeking at her over Draco's shoulder.

Hermione sat up straighter. "Good morning," she said, her voice raspy with sleep.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your sleep," she said, and Hermione flushed as she recalled the other occupants of the home that had all but ceased to exist the previous day as she'd been aware only of Draco's presence. Andromeda's smile grew, yet didn't meet her eyes. "Kingsley has asked to meet with you."

A weight settled in Hermione's chest. She'd forced the wider repercussions of what she'd done into the back of her mind, and they had now come slamming back painfully.

"We'll go shortly," Draco cut in. There was an edge to his voice that dragged her out of her thoughts, and she caught the tension that had settled in his figure.

They didn't speak as they changed out of the clothes they hadn't bothered to leave one another's arms long enough to change out of the day before. The silence stretched even as they opened the small pouch with a portkey inside that Andromeda had left them. The solace they'd been built in the room had been shattered by the reality Andromeda's message had brought upon them. It was only just before he dropped the small coin into her palm that he took her hand and gave her a short nod before they were sucked away.

The portkey deposited them on a slushy patch of grass outside of a cottage. A biting cold still lingered in the air, and Hermione could see the small puffs of her breaths dissipating in the air as she observed their surroundings. They were in a small clearing in an otherwise densely packed forest. She forced her eyes away from where she'd already begun distinguishing the differences in the flora at the cabin she now called theirs, stowing away the memory as she turned and faced the door. It was a nondescript wooden door plastered with peeling paint, yet she felt the weight that had settled in her stomach growing heavier as she stared at it.

She caught Draco move beside her at the edges of her vision, still as stoic as he had been since they'd left Andromeda's. Something within her urged her to move toward him, yet she found her feet carrying her toward the door instead.

Draco caught her by the arm, halting her movements. She turned to find him strained and tense, his eyes flickering to the cottage and back to her.

"Draco?" she asked softly, raising her other hand to reach out to him.

He caught it mid-air. His grip was tight as he stared at her fingers, his eyes flickering to the cottage once more. She could see the outlines of his tensed veins as his grip grew almost painful. His eyes landed back upon hers then. There was a wild, almost feral edge to them, and she could almost see the reflection of her own wide eyes in them. She felt a warm brush of magic on her fingers, and forced her eyes away from his to look down.

"Oh," she breathed.

Her ring was now uncovered, sparkling at its full brilliance even in the muted sunlight. She looked down at where his other hand still held her arm and saw his own ring exposed. How long had it been since she'd seen it last? On the night they'd married she'd given it only the briefest of looks, but now seeing the twin brilliance of their rings uncovered sent a surge of emotion rising within her.

She watched as Draco's hand slipped from her arm to take her hand. He pulled her forward and stopped only when they reached the door. She allowed her mind to fold her wants deep away, her hand settling on the weathered edges of the doorknob and twisting it open.

She'd almost forgotten about the other members of the Order.

Her world had shrunken to accommodate the presence of so few that she found herself frozen in the open doorway as she looked at the dozen people that had paused and looked up at her entrance. At her, and the man that darkened the doorway behind her. She let herself register some of them — George, Hannah, Mr. Weasley, Dean, Parvati— before her eyes settled on Kingsley. He stood at the head of the room, a map with several glowing marks upon it dominating the wall behind him.

Draco's hand tightened around hers, and she felt the heat of him behind her as he stepped closer. His grip was so tight that it was near–trembling. She swallowed and open her mouth, not knowing what to say but knowing that sickening silence had to be broken somehow–

"Come with me," Kingsley said. His voice was low and his eyes inscrutable as he looked behind her and up at her husband.

The intense silence followed them as they fell into step behind Kingsley, following him out of the room and down a long hallway until they reached the darkened door at the end of it. Kingsley opened it and went down the steps without a word, stopping only when they reached the bottom.

Moody stood at the table that dominated the majority of the room, the walls of which were adorned with maps with glowing coordinates and torn pieces of parchment with notes jotted down on them alike. Moody's lips were flat as he appraised them from where he had been bent over the map, a quill still perched in his right hand that dripped ink onto the tabletop.

It was Kingsley who opened his mouth first, but the voice she heard came from behind her.

"Let us make something clear," Draco said from behind her, his voice dripping with disdain, "you will never summon my wife or I again."

Kingsley's lips flattened, and a tense muscle jumped in his jaw. "Your wife," he enunciated, "entered an agreement in understanding of the perilous circumstances this war has put us in. It is no fault of ours that you seem to be unable to do the same."

Her chest tightened and her fists clenched, but Draco spoke before she could. "And you seem to be under the mistaken impression that we are puppets to your every whim, whether it serves this war or not," Draco seethed. "You took advantage of her desperation and that bastard's manipulation to trap her into carrying out the missions that you would not let those most precious to you touch."

Moody slammed a fist on the table. "There are privileges to being a member of the Order that the likes of 'ye have not earned. Best learn your place –"

"I know my place!" Draco's tone was lower, yet more venomous than before. "You are under the mistaken impression that yours is somehow above it –"

"You knew what you agreed to when you came to us," Kingsley said. "Do you think that because your mother was the one who was begging that we didn't see your desperation, too?"

"Damn you!" Hermione shouted, feeling her figure start to tremble with rage. "It seems that you need a reminder that the privilege our marriage bond granted us is held by us alone," she said lowly, glaring between the two men that stood across from them. "You seem to think that we would never speak aloud what you have asked us to do, what you have tried to force us into throughout this war. The bond makes it so that we can never be compelled to reveal any of our dealings together, but it is and has always been our choice whether we speak of what you have forced us into or not."

"We have asked nothing of you that was not required of this war," Kingsley said. "Have you forgotten?"

"There hasn't been a day that has passed that she hasn't remembered that," Draco snapped from behind her.

Hermione felt her heart clench. "I agreed because I wanted to save the ones I love. I agreed because I wanted to fight with the Order, knowing that I was fighting for something – not to be tossed away and forgotten, called upon only in times of need. And the one time I show up, I am berated, thrown out, and forgotten. Did you think I hadn't noticed?" Not a word had come from the Order since her pregnancy scare, reminding her how useless she'd been deemed once they considered her too much of a risk.

"Yer task was to be called upon when you were needed," Moody said, his glass eye whirring as he narrowed it upon her. "And you've gone and revealed yourself, forcing our only spy out of hiding–"

Draco surged forward, stopped only by the way she held him tightly by the hand. "We have done enough," he said. His entire frame was coiled with tension, ready to snap at any moment. "This is the mess you made. Clean it up by your damn selves."

This time she allowed him to pull her with him as he turned and stormed up the stairs, leaving Kingsley and Moody to stew in silence.

X

She didn't say a word as she followed him back to what had become their room, watching him carefully as the tension that had been present since their encounter with Kingsley and Moody did not bleed away from his form.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He paused where he was bent over his trunk. "You have nothing to be sorry about," he answered.

She tried to ignore the gruffness in his voice as she spoke again. "About your mother," she said, ringing in her fingers together as she looked down in her lap. "Because of me–"

"Because of you she is no longer there — unprotected, doing specifically what I asked her not to–" his fists clenched at his side as he cut off.

Hermione crossed over to him and took his tensed hand between both of hers until he relaxed it. "Draco—"

"Andromeda— they haven't spoken in years. But I can see it in her eyes— she would raze the Order if they tried to put my mother out." He turned to her then and met her eyes meaningfully. "All you've done is force her to come where it's safest."

Hermione swallowed. "At the sacrifice of—"

"The only reason it took them as long as it did to find us was because of the wards," he said, his voice tight. "I know that you're aware. The longer we spent outside of the wards, the faster they found us, and in the end it was you alone—"

A sharp rap on the door interrupted them.

Hermione turned toward the sound, her hands tightening around where she still held Draco's before she let go and crossed over to the door.

She hadn't known who she was expecting, but who stood before her left her at a loss for words all the same.

Harry.

His eyes were dark and guarded as he peered past her and into the room at Draco for a long beat. Hermione forced down the swift wave of anger that rose within her as she caught the look he gave Draco, schooling her tone as she started to speak. "Harry," she said flatly.

His eyes seemed to darken further when they landed upon her. He said nothing for a moment, and instead lifted the book he held in his hands, letting the light fall upon the title. It was her copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, still dog-eared and stuffed with the notes she'd placed in it when she'd asked Kingsley to give it to Harry what felt like a lifetime ago.

"The war comes first," he said stiffly.

She stared hard at the book before looking back up at Harry. "Was it helpful?"

He gave her a short, sharp nod. "Yes." His eyes shot toward Draco once more.

"He knows everything," she said.

Harry gave her a long look that she met with a defiant look of her own. "Things are coming to a head. I can feel it. I can feel— him."

Hermione thought of the coil of tension that had been forming in her stomach for years, growing tighter each day as it grew closer to snapping. "I can feel it too," she said, her voice softer than before.

"We can talk tomorrow," Harry said, already turning and heading back down the hall.

"Tomorrow," she said after him, watching as he slipped into a room across the hall.

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